


Never Again

by Floralfatality, honest_pebble



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BOY HAS ISSUES, Basically everyone is worried okay, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Blood and Injury, But focus on Lance's feelings, Canon Universe, Complete, Depressed Lance (Voltron), EVERYONE LOVES EACH OTHER, Eventual Fluff, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Save them, Suicidal Thoughts, Team as Family, Tears, Violence, Worried Hunk (Voltron), Worried Keith (Voltron), but also oblivious, eventual Klance, they're so gay for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-08-22 06:05:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floralfatality/pseuds/Floralfatality, https://archiveofourown.org/users/honest_pebble/pseuds/honest_pebble
Summary: “I’ve let you guys down so much. I’ve let myself down… I don’t know how you guys can even still care about me.”Keith opened his mouth to reply, but wasn’t even given a fighting chance.Lance feels like an idiot. He knows it's time for a change; time to work harder and stop acting like a child. He's a paladin of Voltron. He's supposed to protect people! He doesn't care what happens to him - no one else gets hurt. Never again.Fic based just after the end of season 5 in which Lance is forced to confront his mistakes and it leads him down a very dark path. Unwilling to accept how dangerous his actions are becoming, it's left up to his team-mates and a certain Blade of Marmora member to find the root of his problems and try to bring him back from the edge.We worked so hard on this. I promise our writing is better than our summary. Please give it a go!





	1. Chapter 1, Hon

**Author's Note:**

> @floralfatality : Hi! My sister, @honest_pebble , and I worked on this fic for EIGHT MONTHS. We're so glad it's finally finished and we'd love for you to give it a read and let us know what you think. The original story idea was @honest_pebble's idea and she wrote the original drafts for every chapter - I just charged in and did some crazy editing. I hope you guys enjoy and thank you so much for reading!  
> (Apologies in advance for the chapter titles - I blame my sister even if I wrote them)
> 
> @honest_pebble : 'Sup, I'm @honest_pebble , one of the co-authors of this fan fic! @floralfatality and I worked super hard on this, so I really hope you enjoy it! From now on you'll probably learn that I'm basically just one huge meme, so yeah. I haven't posted anything on my account yet, but you should totally follow it for when I (finally) finish one of the fics I'm working on at the moment! Okay, see ya :))

Well, quiznak. 

Today could not have gone any worse, Lance decided as he struggled frustratedly with the ropes around his wrists. Each movement had him gritting his teeth as the friction scraped his skin, even through the fabric of his paladin armour. All he'd wanted to do was pick up a cute alien girl - y'know, work some of his impeccable charm upon her, but no; the universe had to pick that day to exact some sweet karma on him. 

He should've learnt from the first time not to trust strangers around his lion, but this girl's magnetic field of attraction had been too strong with her silky black bangs shifting over dark mysterious eyes, her slight smile carved flirtatiously over porcelain skin; even her ugly cropped jacket held some appeal in the way it hung around her waist, drawing his eye to the toned muscles there.

He gave up his fidgeting and let his head fall back against the wall in exasperation, trying to figure out how he could possibly explain his situation to the other paladins. This wasn't the first time he'd messed up in the last few phoebs. Even if it had only been a few shots gone astray or slip ups with instructions, they'd all been building up over time and this particular mistake not only took the cake; it took the entire bakery. 

Would they be mad? Probably. Would they chew him out? Definitely. What else could he do though? He'd been considering his options for a while now and as far as he could tell, there was no way he was getting out of this one without some lion-ly assistance from the other paladins. Even if he managed to get free, he didn’t think he’d be able to get to Red – not only did he have no idea where in this huge ship his lion was being kept, but his captor was fast and strong and, as of yet, had never left the cockpit. Nope. He needed help. If only she hadn't taken his helmet.

Finding himself at a stale-mate once again, Lance directed his irritation towards his assailant.

"Aren't you going to gloat or something? Most of the bad guys like to make a little speech about how pathetic I am or laugh at my 'ineptitude', whatever that means." She didn't reply, her eyes fixed firmly forward on the screen. "Ah, strong silent type? You didn't seem to have a problem earlier when you were _**tricking me into your evil clutches!**_ "

"I didn't really need to do much. You're not all that bright." Her voice was soft, but carried a sharpness that betrayed her satisfaction. 

Lance shot her a snide grin. "There we go, was that so hard? Don't you feel better now that you've demonstrated what a manipulative jerk you are?"

"Shut up, Lance."

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? I thought you were just going to refer to me as 'peasant', or 'whelp'. That’s a surprisingly popular one."

"No wonder your team left you alone," she muttered. "Even your friends can't stand you."

Lance feigned a gasp. "Are you saying you only wanted me for my lion?"

She whirled around, her indigo eyes glinting dangerously. "I _**will**_ gag you."

Lance raised an eyebrow suggestively. "I'd love to see you try."

She looked at him with disgust and turned her attention back to the monitors. She was awaiting a call from her buyer, the leader of a rebel Galra fleet. Lance had overheard the entire conversation earlier. The guy was practically licking his lips at the idea of having both the Red lion and its paladin in his possession. Lance couldn't let that happen. Sure, it would be completely detrimental to the entire universe if Red were to fall into enemy hands, but he didn't exactly want to be anywhere near that guys hands either. He didn't seem like the cushy, friendly type; more like the stab you in the gut and laugh at your suffering type.

Lance's eyes lingered once again over his helmet, sat not two metres away from him on the edge of the control panel. There was no way he could get it with his hands tied behind his back, even if his ankles weren't bound too. He needed to knock it onto the floor somehow, but short of repeatedly banging his head against the console, he wasn't sure what he could actually do to make that happen. Then, there was the problem of the girl. He doubted she was going to let him have his one free phone-call. 

A short, cheery alert chirped from the console and a fierce looking Galran flashed up on screen.

"What's the verdict?" asked the girl, a hand on her hip.

The Galran frowned. "I need proof of the condition of the lion before I accept your terms."

"What do you mean?" she replied, anger creeping at the corners of her voice. "It didn't even put up a fight! It's spotless!"

"You should have no problem proving that then," he retorted flatly.

"Fine. I'll send you the pictures in a few doboshes." She hung up and headed for the door, kicking Lance in the leg hard enough that he knew it would bruise. "You better not get any ideas."

"According to you, I'm not capable of that," he snorted, and when she was out of ear-shot murmured, "but you should never underestimate your enemy."

As soon as the door closed behind her he knew he had limited time to work. His shoulder sang with pain as he stretched around his side, trying to get his hands close enough to his thigh to summon his bayard. Luckily, he hadn't pulled it out at any point when he was around her, meaning that she wouldn't know he was still armed.

It took a few attempts and a good deal of grunting, but eventually he felt the pressure against his palm as the bayard materialised in his grip.

"Yes!" he hissed excitedly, forcing the Altean broadsword to take shape. Now came the tricky part; cutting through the ropes at his wrists without accidentally sawing through his own head. Not for the first time, he wished he carried a smaller blade that he could pull out in situations like this, like Keith did. If only they could all have shape-shifting blades from their long-lost alien mothers, things would probably go a lot smoother for everyone. 

He was glad Keith couldn't see him now. He'd never let him live this down, knowing that it wasn't the first time his romantic pursuits had lead him into a trap. He’d cross his arms and narrow his eyes to a laser focus burning hot over Lance’s skin. His rose lips would pull taught with frustration and loosen only to spit out sharp words of disappointment, his voice somehow both smooth and rough at the same time – like a ribbon with a frayed edge. Keith had a way of getting under Lance’s skin and it bothered Lance to no end. He shouldn’t care what Keith thought. He wasn’t the leader anymore. He wasn’t even around. Why was Lance even thinking about him? Why should it matter what Keith would think of this mistake? Why did he even care? 

The tips of Lance’s ears grew hot and he shook those thoughts from his mind. There was no point imagining Keith’s reaction to his idiocy when the guy wouldn’t even be there to dole out punishment with the rest of his friends. He already felt stupid enough without the additional reprimanding on top of that which would undoubtedly greet him later. 

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, his sword made short work of the rope. Lance was just glad his captor hadn't had anything more high-tech on hand to tie him up with. He pulled his hands free and couldn't supress the moaned sigh of relief as he brought them into a more comfortable position, flexing his wrists to bring back blood-flow.

Unfortunately, just as he was starting to relax, the alien girl returned and immediately leapt into action. Fortunately, so did Lance.

She came at him, pulling a small energy gun from her belt, but Lance was quicker, his bayard immediately changing shape and forming his blaster. He fired a fraction of a second before she could and she went down. He rolled forwards onto his knees and placed a hand against the wall to help himself up, then hopped as quickly as he could towards the control panel, reaching for his helmet. He stumbled to the ground as he got close and his hand slapped the helmet as a shot rang over his shoulder, just missing his head. He flipped onto his back as he hit the floor and returned fire, causing her to dive for cover behind the pilot's chair. His gun was a lot more powerful than hers – although that didn’t mean to say hers wouldn’t pack quite a punch - and she was already hit once, so she was being a lot more cautious about taking the offence.

Lance's eyes flickered over to his helmet which had rolled over to the back of the room and he took a risk, diving and reaching out to grab it. Just as his fingers brushed the rim, pain tore through his side and he cried out. He whirled on his opponent, gritting his teeth and firing out another round of shots as she ducked for cover. This wasn't going to work. He needed her to stop shooting at him and that wasn't going to happen unless...

Lance adjusted his aim, pointing his gun straight at the control console and letting out a barrage. The girl cried out in surprise.

"What are you doing?!" She dove for the controls as warning lights bathed the cockpit in a pulsing crimson glow. 

Lance didn't reply, instead reaching straight for his helmet and pulling it over his head. He didn't bother with greetings and ignored the exclamations of his friends as the intercom clicked to life. 

"I'm on a ship somewhere in the Tagar quadrant and we're going down. Can you track me from this signal?"

The paladins caught onto the urgency immediately.

"Got you," said Pidge. "Heading your way now."

"Lance, what's going on?" urged Shiro.

"Me and Red got cap-" That was all he managed to get out before he was under attack again, the dark eyed stranger having recovered from her shock and ready to take revenge in the form of an energy bullet. He hissed as one grazed his arm and again, he shot at the controls, aiming for the switches over the ceiling this time. Sparks sputtered over his opponent’s head and she gasped in outrage.

"Stop! You'll kill us both!"

"Then untie me and I'll fly us both out of here in Red!" he cried, resisting the urge to throw his arm out in exasperation.

The girl glared at him. "I am _**not**_ sacrificing my cargo."

"Are you seriously telling me you'd give your life for a few thousand GAC? 'Cos newsflash! You won't be able to enjoy it if you're dead!"

A deep rumble shook the ship and then there was a deafening bang as the control panel went up in flames. The girl looked between the paladin and the flames, her face contorting with frustration and rage.

"It's over," said Lance. "My friends are coming for us. Give up."

She lingered in her indecision for only a few seconds longer before her face hardened into a series of firm lines. "Your friends can have you," she said, stepping towards the back wall, "but they won't have me." She slammed her hand into a small panel and the wall opened up, leading into what looked like a small escape pod. 

Lance’s eyes flew wide open. "You're just gonna leave me?!" he exclaimed fearfully. “What happened to precious cargo?!”

"This is your own fault," she spat derisively. "You should be nicely toasted by the time your team arrives." She raised her gun and fired a line of shots all along the controls and then disappeared into the pod. Almost as soon as the doors had closed, the pod departed with a burst of speed that only served to add pressure to the already crumbling ship. There was a creaking noise above Lance's head and his heart dropped into his stomach.

Lance summoned his sword and began working at the ropes around his ankles, every groan and crackle of the ship making his breath come harder. His legs snapped apart and he tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he did, pain tore through his side and he fell back against the wall, the metal hot against his neck.

"Lance, I need an update," said Shiro in his ear.

"The girl's gone," he said tiredly, trying to recover his senses.

"What girl?" asked Hunk in confusion.

Lance had been about to answer when another explosion wracked the ship. The flames were growing so fast. He felt like his skin was melting.

"Guys," he panted, trying again to get up, "I'm in trouble."

"I need a set of coordinates if you want us to get there any faster," said Pidge, an edge of irritation in her voice.

"There's nothing. Everything's in flames," he explained, ambling towards the door and dropping his weight against the door-frame. He needed to find Red and get out of here.

"What did you do, Lance?" asked Allura in disbelieving awe.

"Why do you assume it's my fault?" bit Lance, struggling down the corridor. At least the air was cooler here, although the chill drained his weary muscles. His lungs were heavy and his feet, even more so. What was going on? He’d barely walked three metres. 

His hand floated down to the stinging at his ribs and he flinched against the pain as it met something hot and wet. When his eyes followed he let out a small "oh" of surprise; his right side was warm and slick with a heavy coating of blood. That first hit, while it hadn’t broken through, had fractured his armour on impact and chunks of shrapnel had torn through his under-suit and deep into the muscle.

"Guys…" he croaked, his voice failing him. The contrast of red against the pure white of his armour was dizzying. The swirling of his vision drilled backwards into his head, his chest and gut becoming wrapped up in the movement and leaving him wound tight with nausea.

"I see the ship!" cried Hunk. "Geez, buddy, what did you do?"

"Again," huffed Lance, gritting his teeth and scrunching his eyes shut as he put pressure against his wound, "why is it my fault?"

"I seriously doubt your kidnappers blew up their own ship," stated Pidge flatly.

"She did!” he protested with as much energy as he could muster, leaning up against the wall. “Well, after I got it started..."

"So, we _**were**_ right then," she replied smugly.

"Now is not the time," barked Shiro with a little more severity than Lance had expected - he was definitely pissed. “Hunk, blast open that door.”

The whole ship tremored violently as something hit the back end and Lance was thrown backwards along with it. Something stopped the ship from tumbling any further in anti-gravity and Lance hit the wall with a hard thud, his vision flashing and blurring. He groaned as he slid to the floor.

"We've got your lion, Lance," said Allura, a smile in her voice.

"Thanks," he coughed, sucking in a harsh breath as pain flared at his side. "I might need a pick-up too."

"You okay, buddy?" asked Hunk, his voice suddenly heavy with concern.

Lance watched the corridor spinning and tried not to choke under the weight of his pulsing headache. "Not really," he gasped pitifully. That girl had been right. They'd all been right. This was all his fault. His fault for chasing down strange girls and falling for her tricks and for blasting up the ship. He could die and he'd have no one to blame but himself.

"Lance! Answer us!" he faintly heard Pidge yelling, but he was straining to hold on to consciousness now. He felt like he was floating. Even the pain felt far away, like it was detached but still hovering around his body. 

Everything after that, he remembered in flashes. More voices yelling in his ears; familiar faces drifting in and out of focus; hands ghosting over his arms and side. Then, pain spiking so suddenly and intensely that every other sensation was driven away; his eyes flying open but sight escaping him; a muffled, broken scream that could only be his own. 

Finally, nothing.

* * *

Next thing he knew, Lance was tumbling out from a pod, landing heavily against something soft, but steady.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, bud,” came Hunk’s voice, dully hammering on the edges of his headache.

“You sure I didn’t take a wrong turn?” said Lance through his teeth, willing the spots in his vision to go dance somewhere else. 

Hunk lead him down to the steps to sit and Lance rubbed at his eyes, blinking the room into focus. Apart from Hunk, only Shiro was present. Lance’s heart sank a little. Call him self-obsessed, but he’d kind of hoped that after being so close to death his friends would be more excited to see him.

“Where is everyone?” he asked. He noticed the sternness in Shiro’s brow and shrunk a little as the leader spoke.

“Cleaning up the mess.” Lance didn’t miss the implication of “ _ **your**_ mess”.

“I –“ Lance wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d never seen Shiro this angry before; except for when he was around Slav, of course. Lance did another quick sweep of the room, wondering if maybe he’d missed the little guy, but nope; all Shiro’s irritation seemed to be directed at him. “What do you mean?” 

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, rage giving way to a decided tone of disappointment; the one that made Lance’s insides squirm more than one of Coran’s traditional paladin meals.

“It was a trap. When we met our contact, we were ambushed. He took the info we needed but by that point there was nothing we could do because we realised someone was missing.” Shiro looked at him pointedly and Lance’s shoulders rose higher around his neck. 

“We had to let the guy get away to come rescue you,” explained Hunk hesitantly. “A couple of the lions got pretty banged up when we were retreating but they’ll be fine when the guys are done with them.” Hunk gave him a reassuring yet fleeting smile and Lance got the feeling there was worse to come. 

The yellow paladin seemed to sense his uneasiness and looked up at his leader in worry. “Do we really have to do this now?”

“He needs to understand the consequences of his actions,” asserted Shiro, his eyes fixed like cement on Lance.

“He almost died, Shiro. Isn’t that bad enough?” Hunk pleaded.

“That was his own fault.” 

Lance felt Hunk’s arm stiffen around his back just as Lance went cold; a chill cutting deeper than the after-effects of the healing-pod. Lance had already thought the same thing himself, but to hear it said out loud; to hear his leader say it of him…

“Shiro…” Hunk uttered, at a loss for any other words.

The man wilted slightly under the pressure of Hunk’s puppy-dog eyes, but screwed his own eyes shut and stood his ground. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Hunk. I’m being practical. It was his actions that put him in that pod - no one else’s.”

“I’m right here,” fumed Lance, starting to feel like a bound and gagged patient, the psychos in the white coats debating whether to initiate electro-shock therapy on him. “If you have a problem, talk to me about it.”

Shiro’s eyes fell on him and Lance reckoned he saw a flicker of conflict before they hardened. 

“That’s the second time you’ve run off with a girl you shouldn’t have trusted. You’re letting your immature obsession with flirting jeopardise yours and the team’s missions. I thought that after Nyma maybe you’d learned but clearly that’s not the case.”

Lance felt a little fire of indignation spark in his chest again, heating the breath in his lungs so that his words escaped with an angry snap. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose! You think I like being rejected and betrayed?!”

“That’s beside the point, Lance. You need to decide where your priorities are. You have a duty to this team before a duty to your own selfish needs.”

Lance felt as though he’d been slapped across the face. Selfish? Shiro thought he was selfish?

“You do realise that we almost lost more than one paladin in that wreck?” the leader continued and Lance took a sharp breath. “You weren’t the only one in a healing pod yesterday.”

Panic stabbed at him mercilessly, all anger suddenly forgotten, and he found himself unable to form a complete query. His eyes darted around the room, bouncing off the empty pods as he babbled. 

“Who…? Are they…?"

Hunk cut him off with a careful squeeze to the shoulder. “Pidge got caught under some debris but she’s _**fine**_ now.” He shot a faint look of disapproval towards Shiro as he emphasised the word, but Lance wasn’t paying much attention.

“Pidge?” His voice was small - as small as he felt in that moment. “W-what happened? How bad was it?” he flustered.

“It was just a broken leg and a couple of burns, Lance. Don’t freak, she’s totally fine.” His words did nothing to reassure him. _**Just**_ a broken leg, he said. Back on Earth, that would be a lot more serious. It could have permanently damaged her. She might never have walked the same. If they didn’t have the pods… it’d be his fault. She got hurt trying to rescue him. She could have _**died**_ trying to rescue him from his own stupidity.

His eyes burned with regret. Pidge was like a sister to him; she certainly teased him like one. What if he’d woken up and she was just… gone? The team had been hurt bad enough when Shiro disappeared and then, when Keith left. They couldn’t lose anyone else. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing that he was the reason she was…

“Lance, breathe,” urged Hunk, rubbing his arm in comforting motions, worry written across his brow. Lance swallowed back his sobs rather unsuccessfully. He felt like he was choking. He’d known all along he’d get in trouble for what he’d done, but he’d never imagined he could come so close to ruining everything. One little screw up could mean the end of Voltron; the end of his friends. Shiro was right; he’d been selfish and idiotic and there was no way he could take it back. _**God**_ , he wished he could take it all back. 

As he was struggling to keep control of himself, he was dimly aware of the _**woosh**_ of the door to the healing-pod bay sliding open and a series of blurred colours floating into the room. When he finally blinked his sticky lashes apart, Allura was suddenly dropping to her knees in front of him, her eyes glittering like opals in a million different colours. 

“What’s happening?” she demanded, concerned hands landing like feathers across Lance’s forearms despite the harshness of her voice. Lance merely shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn’t talk about it anymore; couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to hear what they had to say about him. He already knew. He was pathetic. He was a mess. It was his fault. His fault. 

“Hey, what’s –“ came a tentative voice, breaking through the blur of Lance’s thoughts. His eyes snapped open, darting to the source of the whisper and as soon as he met the trembling liquid amber of the green paladin’s gaze, he broke, all the air rushing from him with a pained bark, the tears he’d been trying so hard to hold back, spilling over his cheeks. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her like a life preserver where she had knelt down on the floor.

“I’m so s-sorry,” he hiccupped, squeezing her tight, praying that his arms wouldn’t phase right through her; that she wouldn’t just disappear.

“F-for what?” Pidge stammered with incredulity, her own arms sliding around his back comfortingly, but he couldn’t find it in himself to reply. All he could do was bury his face into her shoulder and apologise over and over, the words sounding dead and empty no matter how much feeling he put into them.

“Lance, seriously,” she said, pushing him away, sitting back on her feet folded behind her and regarding him with a familiar expression of curiosity, although now it was laced with distress. He dragged the scratchy sleeve of his pod suit across his raw and stinging cheeks and sniffed pathetically. 

“I-it was my fault,” he croaked. “I can’t believe I – I’m –"

Understanding filtered across her face and the soft pools of her eyes solidified into a fierce glare. “Don’t even dare apologise again, McLain,” she half-gasped, half-spat. “What are you thinking?”

It was her turn to dive at him, knocking the air out of his lungs as she barrelled into his chest. He would have fallen backwards if not for Hunk’s steady hands catching his back. His limbs felt frozen, chills running through his veins. He ached to return her hug, but some part of him was holding back; the part that was urging on the painful squirming in his gut and the hot tears that wouldn’t stop falling from his tired eyes. He sucked in a staggered breath and tried to bite back another unwanted apology. 

He heard Shiro say his name and inhaled sharply, his eyes drifting fitfully up to the leader. He barely had time to open his mouth before Hunk was on his feet.

“Enough,” he thundered, cutting through the air with his hand. Lance flinched at the violence of the display and felt Pidge jump back from him. He’d never known Hunk to sound so murderous. It was wrong. Everything about this was so wrong. He was wrong. He’d done this. Everyone was scared and angry and confused and it was all because of him.

“Lance?” 

He got caught in Allura’s eyes and, trying to ignore the trembling reflection of himself, he followed her gaze down to where his hands were shaking. She placed hers over his, holding them still and he let out a fractured breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. He knew that if he looked up he’d see himself reflected in every set of eyes; a sorry, shrunken shape. He couldn’t escape his fear, radiating from every corner of the room as well as from within his own pounding heart. Some logical part of him was telling him to calm down, that everything was alright, but it was being drowned out by every other thought assaulting his tired mind and every stare pouring over his even more exhausted body.

* * *

He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened next, but when he opened his eyes, it wasn’t to the high silver-arched ceilings of the pod-bay. Everything was grey. And then brown. Green and yellow.

“Hey, he’s awake!” Pidge’s voice came, slightly muffled. His eyes focused and he could see her leaning over him, her face pressed into the pillow she was squeezing. She was sat on the bed – his own bed, he noted – with her legs spread out at either side behind her. Hunk was perched on the edge of the mattress near his head, smiling down at him.

“You gave us a scare there, lad,” chimed Coran, strolling up to the bedside with a crooked smile and laying a gentle hand over Lance’s forehead. “Just toppled over all of a sudden like a Karlak in a Galacksion storm.”

“I-“ Lance started, but broke into a coughing fit at the dryness of his throat. Hunk helped him sit up and handed him a water pouch, worry weaving its way into his gentle smile. Lance took a few sips and waited until the coughs died out before attempting to speak again.

“I passed out?”

Coran nodded. “Overstimulation. After such a long time in the healing-pod, your body was slow and fragile. All that hullaballoo certainly didn’t do you any good.” There was an air of disapproval to his tone and Lance pulled the covers up close to his neck. He could barely hiss out an “s” to start his apology before Pidge cut him off.

“Quit it,” she said darkly. “Enough.”

He was taken back to the chaos of the room; Hunk’s poisonous tone and the eyes all around him like 100lb weights on his already heavy shoulders. Their memory sank through his skin and settled in his empty stomach, leaving no room for anything good.

He took some time to re-word. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured eventually. 

“It’s not your fault,” replied Hunk with the implication that it was someone else’s.

Lance shook his head, an aching dizziness pulsing behind his eyes. “Don’t do that. It’s not his fault either.”

They all looked at him as though he’d just told them that he wanted to marry Zarkon.

“It’s not!” he implored. “Shiro had every right to say what he said after what I did, and _**don’t**_ try to deny it.” They looked at him, face’s heavy with irritation.

“He should’ve waited,” muttered Pidge, arms crossed as if to choke the pillow in her grasp.

“Maybe,” said Lance sadly, knowing they wouldn’t allow him to disagree.

“Are you okay, Lance?” asked Hunk seriously. “Like, really?”

Lance forced his lips into something he hoped resembled a smile. “No problems here. Like Coran said – over-simu-whatsit.”

“ _ **Overstimulation**_ ,” Pidge said with a laugh. He knew that, of course, but it made her smile. Pidge had a fantastic smile. It reflected every aspect of her personality, her eyes glittering with cunning and intelligence and undeniable warmth. He wondered if it would have felt the same in memory, had he actually lost her forever.

Hunk nudged him, having noticed the change in his demeanour.

“Sorry. Daydreaming,” Lance explained weakly.

“Perhaps you should go back to the regular kind,” chuckled Coran. “You ought to get some food in you first though, hmm?”

“Oh, yeah!” burst Hunk suddenly, making Lance jolt a little in surprise. “I brought a plate through for when you woke up.”

Coran passed a plate over to Hunk, who then proffered it towards Lance. Lance felt his stomach tighten at the sight of the luminescent, gelatinous mass. No room.

Lance pushed the plate away to everyone’s shock.

“Dude, you gotta be starving,” prompted Hunk.

“I’m just… not,” winced Lance. “I’d rather just get some more sleep,” he lied. He wanted to be left alone. He couldn’t handle them hovering over him like this, like he could fall apart at the breath of the slightest gust of wind. He needed time to process, to think through everything that had happened. 

“Lance,” Coran began, looking troubled by the refusal.

“Really, I’m fine.” Lance was surprised by the ease with which lies rolled from his tongue. “Just gonna take a little snooze and boom, I’m back to normal!”

His friends looked unsure but resigned themselves to let him rest, sure that his appetite would return soon enough.

“Just make sure you eat that,” said Hunk, pointing to the plate of goop, “and that you have a double portion at breakfast,” he warned. 

“Yeah, you’re skinny enough as it is,” added Pidge. Her grin didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she gave Lance a soft jab in the stomach.

“Coming from you,” he snorted, poking her hard in the arm in retaliation. The action seemed to reassure her, as well as the two looking on. She threw the pillow she was clinging onto into his face and slipped from the bed, following the others out of the door. Then, there was silence.

Lance let it coat his ears and suddenly his thoughts felt louder, echoing in the empty room. He glared again at the plate of food. Looking at it only made him angry. It was like an apology for everything that had happened in the healing-pod bay; a sad, regretful little plate of “I’m sorry we hurt your feelings.” He wanted to throw it across the room. 

So, he did.

As soon as the plate shattered against the wall he grimaced at the noise and hoped no one had been around to hear it. When no one showed up, however, he relaxed a little, staring at the goop now dripping down the walls. He knew he’d have to clean it up later, but that was the least of his worries. He had a much bigger mess to deal with.

God, what a nightmare. How did everything get so screwed up? 

He knew the answer to that. 

It was him. 

Hunk and Pidge may have forgiven him, but he hadn’t forgiven himself yet. Shiro had been right when he’d said he needed to rethink his priorities, no matter how harshly he may have said it. He’d almost died – his team could have died – because he’d been so obsessed with wooing a stranger who wouldn’t even give him her name. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. What made it worse still was that it wasn’t even close to a second offence, but it was a repeated one. Exactly the same as last time, but so much worse.

Lance pulled the blankets over his head and groaned into his pillow in frustration. People had been calling him dumb his whole life. He was used to it. He’d never refuted the fact that he’d frequently done stupid things, but never had he actually felt genuinely stupid until this moment. He couldn’t do this anymore. He wasn’t a kid; he was a paladin of Voltron. He was supposed to protect people. He needed to start taking this more seriously. He couldn’t let this happen again. None of the others would have.

He didn’t know how he was going to face the team after this, especially after his full-blown break-down. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover how he felt. How sad was it that he couldn’t even handle being scolded after screwing up so badly? His friends probably thought he was being over-sensitive as usual. They’d go back to making fun of him as soon as he’d fully recovered. The taunts he could handle, but the meaning behind it… How were they supposed to take him seriously when he burst into tears at the drop of a hat? What kind of paladin did that make him? 

He started to wonder, not for the first time in his life, if he’d ever manage to live up to the title. Everyone else seemed to be growing into their roles as paladins with no problems, even Allura who had acquired her lion much later on. She was so much better as the blue paladin than he ever was and now he was starting to doubt that he’d ever be able to match up to Keith in Red. He was literally Voltron’s right-hand man, and yet all he’d done lately was hinder the cause. That was probably why Shiro was so hard on him all the time. He kept pushing Lance to do better but Lance never listened. He’d made so many mistakes even just in the last phoeb, yet there had been no improvement. He couldn’t help but wonder that if Keith had never left, would he already have been kicked off the team?

The one good thing to take from all this was that Keith wasn’t around to see it. Lance curled up into a ball beneath the sheets, remembering the scene he’d played out in his head back on the dying ship. No doubt if he’d been here, Keith would have sided with Shiro, and where would that leave him? A disappointment to his childhood hero and his… his…

Keith wasn’t his anything. Keith was gone. 

His breaths came harsh, a wobbly mixture of grief and anger. He didn’t know why he was so upset. If Keith was still here and still the black paladin, Lance would probably already have been booted from the team. It didn’t matter that once the boy had spoken kind words to him or had reassured him when he was at his lowest. Keith spoke those words to someone else; someone who hadn’t endangered their team or their mission. Lance wasn’t one of the best as Keith had so confidently said. He was the worst. At this stage Kaltanecker could probably do a better job. 

Lance caught himself and laughed, a bitter cough of derision. So, now he was jealous of a cow. This was ridiculous. He wanted to punch himself. Here he was feeling sorry for himself as if the fight was already over. He’d made one massive mistake – so what? At least he was still here. He wasn’t about to run away. He wasn’t just some mopey teenager that whines and complains when things get too hard. He still had a responsibility to the universe, as long as Red let him keep it. 

There was no way he was giving up yet. Voltron was one of the best things that had ever happened to him and he wasn’t going to let it go that easily. He knew he could do better and that he could be better. He just had to show them.

He was going to show them.


	2. Chapter 2, Woo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is working hard... maybe a little too hard... Time for an intervention?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Hey! Back at it again with chapter 2. Who here likes family dinners? How about with a side of angst? Goooooood (*tents fingers maliciously*) Also, CAN WE HAVE SOME LOVE FOR CORAN CORAN THE GORGEOUS MAN? HE CARES DANGIT.  
> It took sooooooo long to get this one right but we're pretty proud of how it turned out in the end. Hope you enjoy! Please leave us a comment if you do!

Lance sliced through the drones on the training deck, thinking about everything that had happened over the last couple of days. They’d been trying to track down the informant that got away while putting feelers out for any new information. The loss of that information was a big one, considering that whoever got a hold of it would most likely take control of multiple factions of rebel Galra. Voltron _**needed**_ to get those coordinates before any of the more powerful groups, especially Sendak and his ‘Fire of Purification’ which was a literal growing threat as they absorbed fleet after fleet of rogue Galrans into their army. Somehow, they were always one step ahead. 

So far, Lance had been opting to stay quiet and out of the way. He thought that would be for the best until he could earn Shiro’s trust back. Since the incident, he’d only seen Shiro in compulsory meetings and training sessions. As soon as those were over, he’d bolt before the leader could get a chance to catch up with him. Lance would tell himself it was because he was busy, but he knew that it was really because he was embarrassed. He didn’t want to hear what Shiro had to say about his little freak-out. He didn’t want to hear him apologise as he undoubtedly would. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if Shiro asked him how he was doing because he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie, and the truth was that Lance wasn’t sure. He couldn’t let it show. If the others saw even a hint of uncertainty in him, they’d never trust him on a mission. He’d never get the chance to make it up to them. 

The only way he could feel better was to be actively working to make sure that he never made a mistake like that again. That was what brought him to the training deck most hours of the day, taking out his frustrations on the training bots.

Unfortunately, with all the time he spent there, he hadn’t been able to relax and hang out with his friends as much. They’d bothered him a little on the first day, mostly due to pity he figured, but he shook them off and they’d left him to it. He thought it would bother him more, but the truth was that he’d been drifting from the group for a while now. 

Hunk and Pidge didn't spend as much time with him as they used to. That was okay though. They were usually busy with projects to upgrade the castle or working on some kind of sciencey stuff that Lance couldn’t even begin to understand. Things were fine before, but lately – since they’d gone into space and acquired access to all this new technology – he was beginning to feel a bit dumb sitting around while they did all the work. It was ridiculous of course, because he knew they were exactly the same people as the two friends he’d left Earth with, but out here they didn’t have the limits they had on Earth. He felt like he was getting in the way when he lounged around in their make-shift lab as they prattled on about converters and switches and amplifiers or whatever. He was out of his depth, drowning in confusion and the growing feeling that he wasn’t really needed there. So, where was he needed? 

Lance banished that thought as he slashed through a line of drones. That was a dangerous thought. He couldn’t help but remember Keith and the chat they’d had just before he’d left. Keith had effectively told him to shut up when he’d brought up his insecurities. The question was, was it because Lance was wrong to think that way, or because Keith already knew there would be a space to fill when he left? Was Lance just a spare tyre? A seventh wheel?

He’d been thinking about Keith a lot lately. It was like having a knife jammed permanently into his spine, a constant reminder that if he took one step backwards, it was over, and that if Keith had been there that day, he’d have walked straight into the blade before even getting the chance to fix things. His emotions were running so high after he… woke up. If Keith had been there to take his place, Lance probably would have let him.

Now, however, he was using that knife in his back as motivation. No way was he giving this up. He’d work harder than Keith ever had, if that’s what it took to prove himself again.

“Lance?”

Lance’s attention was pulled towards the door at the sound of Coran’s voice, leaving him open to attack. He felt a buzz as a shot hit him directly in the back and he yelped and called for the simulation to end.

“Sorry, m’boy,” cringed Coran. “Didn’t mean to distract you. How long have you been in here?”

Lance pulled his helmet off and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. “I don’t know, a few hours?”

Coran strolled across the deck towards him and Lance saw the purpose in each step. “More than a few by my reckoning. Did you eat lunch?”

“No… but –“

“Come with me,” sang the older man, gesturing with a finger.

“But I’m not finished yet!” Lance protested.

“Finish a bit early today. You’ve been working hard so I think you can get away with taking a little break, no?” He offered a bright smile and Lance felt trapped. What was Coran’s game? Why was he being so insistent?

“You’re not gonna make me clean pods again, are you?” he asked nervously.

“Well, as tempting as that is,” Coran replied, twirling the end of his moustache, “I’d rather we just talk if that’s alright with you.”

“Talk?”

Coran nodded. “Follow on, number three.” He started walking towards the door, eliminating any chance of further rebuttal. Lance only hesitated for a second before giving a bothered sigh of defeat.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, putting away his bayard. He was curious. Coran rarely approached anyone without good reason. He may be a little scatter-brained from time to time and a good dose of wacky, but he was also one of the most diligent and intelligent people Lance knew. He noticed things. He remembered things. The question was, what did this have to do with Lance on this particular day?

“What’s this about, Coran?” he asked suspiciously as he crossed the threshold into the corridor, joining the older man. Coran continued walking and Lance fell into step beside him.

“When I was about your age – relatively of course – I came across a young squilla on Plaxar-Nine. She told me that the only way to open a theran was to hit it with a polark. I disagreed. Therans respond better when you coax them out with a mantricorp. Mind you, those are hard to get a hold of, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth the effort.”

Coran looked at Lance knowingly, seemingly waiting for some kind of response. Lance felt his face contort in utter bemusement. 

“Uuuuuh, what?” he laughed nervously, no idea at all of what the man was trying to tell him.

“I know you think what you’re doing is right, but you may be causing more damage than you know,” said Coran, giving him a meaningful look.

Lance squinted at him, looking between his companion and the empty hallway behind them. “Did - did you not want me to follow you, or…?”

Coran shook his head. “Just be careful. You might find yourself up the Valloo without a mamrin to your name.”

Lance felt like he’d been spinning in circles. “O…kay…?”

“Good,” smiled Coran. “Glad we had this little chat.” He gave Lance a hearty clap on the shoulder and they found themselves at the end of the corridor. “I think it’s about time we ate!” he announced as he waltzed through the door into the dining hall.

Lance stood where he was for another minute, trying to navigate the rollercoaster his thoughts were currently loopedy-looping on. He always appreciated Coran’s advice but Lance couldn’t even begin to figure out what he had been trying to say this time. He’d said he might be causing damage with what he was doing. Was he talking about the incident with the girl? Was he warning him that things were worse than he had thought? Coran hadn’t said much on the subject since Lance had gotten out of the pod, being mainly focused on making sure he was okay, but maybe, now that Lance was fully healed, this was his way of putting his two GAC in. 

Lance’s frown dropped further and he felt uneasy looking at the door in front of him. He almost didn’t go inside, but Coran peeked out from behind the door and promptly informed him that everyone was waiting for him. His stomach twisted. He hadn’t realised that they’d all be there. He’d kind of been avoiding meal times so that he could stay out of Shiro’s way. He felt bad about it, of course, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face him, or any of them for that matter. It felt wrong; like he’d be intruding.

Lance tried to protest on the grounds that he hadn’t yet showered or changed out of his armour, but the older man paid no mind to his objections, flexing a finger in a “come here” movement and disappearing back inside. Lance realised he wasn’t going to be given the choice. 

The first thing he noticed on entering was that there was a full house – even fuller than usual.

“Keith?” he almost squeaked, seeing the ex-paladin seated at the table next to Shiro.

Keith looked up at him from between onyx bangs, his dark eyes reaching out to Lance’s own. He looked different, his arms more toned, his body more rigid, but those eyes were the same, locking onto him and making Lance feel like he was the only other person in the room.

“Uh, hey,” Keith replied simply, and Lance saw the hesitant quirk of lips trying to form a smile they so clearly didn’t want to. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Why are you here?” he said bluntly. He hadn’t meant to. It just slipped out, one panicked heart beat urging it from his heavy tongue. Did he know? Why would he know? Had they told him? Why would they tell him? What was he thinking? Why did Lance care?

Keith stayed silent a fraction of a second too long, only adding to Lance’s anxieties. “Intel,” he blurted, then reigned his voice into a quieter register. “The Blades had some intel on the rebel Galra locations. I’m just delivering the message.”

He stared at Lance curiously, the crease in his brow almost invisible. Lance was sure that if he weren’t already sweating, he would be now.

“That,” said Pidge, shattering the heady illusion with all the grace of an elephant in high-heels, “and he missed us, didn’t you Keith?” She looked at him like she’d caught him smuggling cookies from the jar.

He didn’t even get a chance to answer as Hunk pounced forward across the table, ruffling his hair. “Aw, we missed you too, our little half-Galran spit-fire.”

“Excuse me?” Allura asked, blinking in confusion.

“I don’t know! I just say weird stuff when I’m emotional, okay!”

Lance giggled along with the others - although he was sure it was more due to the after-effects of his short battle with hysteria - and took a seat next to Hunk where a plate had already been set out for him. He noticed that everyone else’s plates were almost empty. How long had Keith been here and why had no one come for him sooner? They must have gotten tired of waiting for him. That, or they hadn’t expected him to show up. Either was a fair assumption, if he was being honest. He forced himself not to look at Keith again, even though he was now less than a metre away.

Despite the aching pang of nerves due to his confusion, Lance felt giddy, like a five-year-old who’d just been told they’re going to Disneyworld. It was bubbling up inside him and trying to break through the layers of caution he’d built. It was ridiculous. It was just Keith. Just plain old boring Keith. The same Keith that had left. He shouldn’t be excited, he should be… well, Lance didn’t know what he was supposed to be. He chanced a look at his friends and noted that most of them wore smiles, but there was something simmering underneath. Something sombre. What was he missing?

Hunk sniffed audibly. “Dude,” he said, his nose scrunched up, “you reek.”

Lance was suddenly very conscious of all the eyes on him, roaming up and down over his mussed hair and armour. He lifted an arm and took a tentative sniff. Crap. Could everyone smell it? His eyes took that as an excuse to wander back over to Keith across the table who was watching him with his usual intensity. Lance used to find it kind of unnerving but after being on a team with him for so long he’d figured that’s just how Keith is. He never just looked at something. He was always observing, his eyes bright and sharp. Now, however, he felt just as uncomfortable as the first time he’d met those eyes.

Realising that his friends were probably expecting some kind of response from him, he threw a glare to the other end of the table. “Maybe I would’ve had time to shower if Coran had warned me sooner,” he said pointedly and the older man shrugged, stirring his food goo.

“If I had warned you, would you have shown up?” he pressed, flicking his spoon out so that green sludge spattered across the white surface.

Lance was taken aback by his forwardness and he stared in shock at the man, but Coran’s own gaze travelled towards Shiro who was sat straight across from Lance. Shiro twirled his spoon in one spot on his plate, his eyes meeting Lance’s.

“I want to apologise for what I said the other day. It was… harsh.”

There it was; the exact thing he’d put so much effort into avoiding.

Lance began shaking his head on impulse and spared another glance at Keith. The ex-paladin was doing his best to avoid his gaze now, but Lance could feel his stare whenever he looked away and knew that his friends had told him what had happened. 

This was just perfect. Not only was it now confirmed to him that they had been talking about his screw up behind his back, but also that Keith knew about the whole embarrassing ordeal. He didn’t want Keith to know just how badly he was screwing up the whole red paladin thing. He didn’t want Keith to think he couldn’t handle it. He could feel those eyes boring into him, willing him to crack.

“Shiro, you don’t have to -“ Lance started - almost pleaded - but Shiro raised his hand to stop him.

“Yes, I do. It was unfair of me to put all of that on you. I was stressed and I had a headache and I ended up taking all of my frustrations out on you. Not that that’s really an excuse…” He shrank a little, which was quite a feat for a man his size. “I hope that you can forgive me.”

Everyone was looking at Lance like he was an unexploded mine that could go off at the slightest touch. He didn’t understand this. Did they really think he was so sensitive that he couldn’t handle a little criticism? Why was Shiro trying to take back what he’d said now?

“But you were right,” Lance argued. “I was an idiot. You don’t have to apologise for doing your job.”

“It isn’t his job to belittle the other paladins,” said Allura sharply. Lance was surprised by the reaction. Allura hardly ever spoke with such malice to anyone other than her enemies.

“R-really, it’s fine,” Lance insisted, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. “Hunk, what did you tell them?” he asked with a nervous laugh. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

“It was pretty bad, dude,” he replied, his eyes darting over to Shiro for a second. Lance followed his gaze and saw that the leader was prodding his food goo, his head lowered, but his eyes looking anxiously towards the others. That was when Lance realised that this hadn’t been Shiro’s idea. The others had talked him into apologising. 

That being said, he didn’t doubt that Shiro felt bad; one look at the black paladin gave him enough second-hand shame to rival the time his older brother had yelled at his first crush, thinking that the reason Lance had been so quiet about them was because the kid was bullying him. Lance hadn’t needed anyone to fight his battles back then, and he certainly didn’t need it now either.

“Look, guys,” Lance said, “It’s done. Over. Terminado. Let’s just forget about it.” A few of them looked like they wanted to say something, hackles raised to defend him and he felt a simultaneous twinge of love and annoyance for his overprotective friends. He worked on instinct, sticking his hand out across the table towards his leader.

“I won’t apologise again because I know that Pidge would probably leap across the table and clamp my mouth shut herself, but I will say that I won’t do anything that stupid again and I really hope that you believe me.”

He heard Allura take a breath as if to speak but he held up a finger on his free hand to quiet her. He’d be paying for that later – no one shushed the princess – but for now, he wanted to face his problems like a grown up, without intervention from anyone else.

The silence lingered like a needle waiting to be thread, his skin prickling with agitated anticipation. Finally, after what felt like minutes but was probably only a couple of seconds, Shiro reached out and took his hand. The metal was cold against Lance’s palm, but kept him grounded in reality and away from wondering where Keith’s thoughts were. The ex-paladin’s eyes kept darting back and forth between the two of them and Lance was trying to ignore the burning need to know exactly who he was going to side with. Surely, he didn’t have a chance?

“I believe you,” said Shiro, a fond smile coming upon his face, “but I’m sorry, still, even if you don’t want to hear it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Their hands broke apart and, with it, so did the stillness around them. Suddenly Lance felt hyper-aware of every tiny movement that anyone made. It was like they were all sitting in goo as thick as that residing on their plates and every little twitch sent vibrations ricocheting between them. He felt like he could choke on it. 

“Come on, guys,” he tried, plastering on as big a grin as he could manage. “Smile! If you don’t, Keith’s emo will take over the entire room and we’ll be singing _**Welcome to the Black Parade**_ before dessert.”

“Seriously?” Keith sputtered in exasperation, the last of the tension dispersing into fragments. “I’ve been here less than a varga and you’re already on the emo jokes? I should’ve known. I don’t even know that song. It’s ancient.”

“ _ **Sure**_ , you don’t,” Pidge grinned, taking the bait. “I can play a G-note on my tablet _**real**_ easy,” she drawled.

“Do it!” Lance gasped excitedly, the weight in his stomach lifting along with the mood.

“Better not,” pitched in Shiro with a smile. “You don’t want to hear him sing.”

“Shiro!” Keith hissed in betrayal.

“Aw, you gotta do it now, Pidge,” said Hunk.

“Why did I ever come back here?” Keith muttered to the ceiling.

“Because we’re your only friends?” smirked Lance. He prayed Keith hadn’t heard the tiny trip in his voice that surely would have betrayed the hopefulness he refused to believe he was hanging on to.  
So many times since Keith had disappeared, had Lance wondered when and if he would be coming back. He told himself it didn’t matter, but every inch of him felt the lie like a disease running through his veins. The truth was that he’d lost a friend – a close one at that – and although Keith wasn’t his leader anymore, he still wanted to make him proud. He wanted to impress him. Lance’s actions of late would have done nothing of the sort and he feared that Keith might look at him differently now that he knew what had happened.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

Keith glared at him for a second before crossing his arms, his eyes darting away towards the door. “True,” he said with a softness that took Lance unawares and made his insides feel as mushy as the gelatinous pile on his plate. What the Hell? Keith had said one word! What was wrong with him?

Lance attempted to distract himself from the growing warmth in his cheeks by staring intensely down at his plate and shovelling food into his mouth. The butterflies in his stomach screeched with protest but the nagging pain of hunger over-rode them. God, was he hungry. When was the last time he had eaten? He’d gotten up early… and dinner was always at around… so, that would make it… about thirteen vargas? He was definitely feeling it.

"Where were you, just now?" Keith asked, stabbing at the flecks of goo on his own plate as the rumble of conversation started at the opposite end of the table.

"Training," Lance said simply, thinking nothing of it.

The former red paladin almost choked on his spoon. " _ **You? Training?**_ " 

"Yeah, me, training," Lance retorted, brandishing his own loaded spoon accusingly. “Why is that so hard to believe?” He’d meant it to sound indignant but, to his irritation, it came out sounding more hurt.

“It’s not,” Keith replied quickly, his wide eyes flashing with something too rapidly for Lance to decipher. “It just…” He seemed incapable of completing that sentence and Lance hummed in annoyance. 

“Wow, Keith. Thanks. Good to know.” He scraped the dregs from the sides of his plate into the bulging pile in the centre. They wouldn’t join up and they wouldn’t sit neatly, no matter how much he prodded and poked at them. It didn’t matter what Keith thought. It didn’t matter.

“Why are you being so defensive about this?” questioned Keith.

“I don’t know, why are you being such a –“

“Lance,” warned Shiro and he froze, his stomach lurching. Shiro’s stare was nowhere near as stern as it had been the other day, but it still sent a chill over him. The leader’s expression shifted and he continued talking. He hadn’t noticed the change in Lance.

“Lance has been working hard lately,” he explained to Keith. “It’s good to see him taking initiative.”

How was it that a compliment could make him feel so small? Maybe it was the fact that Shiro wasn’t even talking to him. It was like a pet-owner boasting that they’d finally taught their dog not to pee on the carpet. Seemed redundant when he’d – metaphorically, of course - peed all over the god-damned house the other day.

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered into his chest with a weak smile, telling himself to stop taking everything so personally. This was Shiro’s way of making it up to him. Just let him talk if it made him happy. Not that he’d try to speak out against him anyway; the last few times now had ended in an explosion of harsh words.

Everyone was pretty much done eating now except Lance, and every time he lifted a spoonful to his mouth he felt like eyes were on him, namely Keith’s. Why wouldn’t he leave him alone? What was his problem? If he had something to say to him, he wished he’d just come out and say it rather than stringing him along like this.

“Hey,” he heard finally.

“What’s with the whispering?” Lance asked in confusion. “Are we playing Telephone?” The friendly dash of sarcasm was clearly lost on Keith, who didn’t match Lance’s smile.

“What? No, I just…” He paused for a second, his eyes shifting ever so slightly as he observed Lance’s face. “Are you alright?”

Lance felt his eyes widen a touch. He hadn’t been expecting this question; at least not from Keith. His heavy gaze appeared somehow softer now and Lance recognised that the intense look that had been crushing him was in fact tainted by a glimmer of concern. He looked…sad, and Lance felt his heart shudder and moan.

Memories came rushing back in full. This was the boy who’d saved his life on several occasions. He remembered the feeling of Keith’s hand gripping desperately at his own as he wrenched him from the open air-lock. He remembered the warmth of his breath gliding across his face and dusting his eyelashes as he carried him to the healing-pods. He remembered that exact look in his eye both times, and also as Lance told him about his insecurities. Keith had always been there, in a way, even at the start when all they’d done was bicker. Keith was always there. Until he wasn’t.

Keith would be gone again soon. He couldn’t let himself do this again. Not after last time. It had hurt. He didn’t want to hurt again. Keith didn’t need him anymore, so Lance had learnt to live without him. He couldn’t do it again.

“Lance?” His voice was gentle when he wanted it to be. It stroked Lance’s heart-strings; made him want to sing their song.

“I’m okay,” he said instead, feeling the notes die within him. He couldn’t tell the truth. He’d just be complaining as usual. He wasn’t a child. He could handle his own problems.

“I don’t think I believe you,” admitted Keith, regarding him with uncertainty.

“Well, I guess that’s your problem,” Lance replied flatly, turning a blank stare on the remainder of his food.

“Hey, Lance,” piped Hunk and Lance breathed an inward sigh of relief at the chance to talk to someone else. “We were gonna try and build a tiny trampoline for the mice after dinner – you in?” The big guy raised an evocative brow, probably feeling pretty confident that he already knew the answer.

Lance smiled sadly into his goo. “I can’t,” he said, regret already tugging in disbelief at his chest, even his own body shocked by his reply.

Hunk’s face dropped faster than an anchor on dry land. “What do you mean ‘can’t’?” he whined with large, shiny eyes.

“I swear to God, if you’re ditching us to play _**Killbot Phantasm**_ …” thundered Pidge. “I told you, you’ll never get past that level on your own –“

“It’s not that,” Lance insisted. “Coran pulled me out of training early and I’ve got some stuff I still need to work on.”

The man in question paused with his spoon half-way to his mouth. “Lance,” he began in a strangely low tone, the spoon dipping again, but Pidge talked right over whatever he had been meaning to say.

“But you’ve been training all day. What are you doing in there? If you’re staging a prank, then it’s your moral duty as my partner in crime to clue me in.”

Lance felt a twinge of indignation, making his eye twitch. “It ever occur to you that maybe I’m _**actually training**_?” It was one thing for Keith, the runaway, to undermine his dedication, but one of his fellow paladins?

She scoffed in reply but when he didn’t laugh along with her, she looked up in confusion. “Wait, seriously?”

Lance dropped his spoon with a modest clatter, his hand clenching as if pulling on the reigns of his emotions. He tried not to huff in his anger, knowing by the prickling in his eyes that it’d soon turn to tight gasping. 

He was doing it again; being overly sensitive. Pidge always made fun of him. It shouldn’t be a big deal. He guessed he’d just hoped, because he was finally trying… but no. Maybe he was asking too much. It’d only been a couple of days, after all. How were they supposed to notice any kind of difference in him when they hadn’t even seen him in battle yet?

The air was thick again and Lance felt like he’d be causing trouble just to breathe. In reality, barely a tick had passed before Hunk chimed in, but it might as well have been a deca-phoeb.

“Careful, Lance, or you’ll become our new resident loner,” he joked. 

“You’ll have to fight Keith for the title,” smirked Pidge, forgetting her perplexity in light of another opportunity to demonstrate her wit.

“Perhaps they could duel for it,” offered Allura with a grin, “now that they both have swords.”

“A sword?” prompted Keith, his eyes, sparkling with intrigue, landing on Lance again. It was enough to snuff out the last of his irritation, pride sparking in its place.

“Well, _**yeah**_ ,” retorted Lance as if the fact should be obvious. “Hence, the training. My shot is already perfect.” He allowed himself to bask in his ego for a moment, spurred on by the impressed look the ex-paladin was giving him. He decided to take it a little further, his lip curling smugly.

“Yeah… Turns out I’m so talented, I rock with both a gun and a sword. Now I can beat you long-range, or close-combat,” he said, leaning back in his chair, hands tucked behind his head. 

“Oh, yeah?” said Keith, a strange smile coming upon his face. Lance was about to question it when he suddenly felt his chair fly out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor with a cry. The sensation was all too familiar after a full day of training. There was another round of laughter as Lance sat startled on the ground. 

He felt shame ignite, swallowing his pride and heating his cheeks. It was a simple joke. He should have seen it coming. He shouldn’t have gotten cocky.

“I wouldn’t count on that, Lance,” snickered Pidge, “not when you can’t even stay upright in your chair.”

He pushed himself to laugh it off as he usually would, but he just couldn’t. Something within him snapped; not in the way a rope stretched too far breaks but more like a glow stick that cracks and, instead of lighting up, the liquid bleeds pitifully out onto the floor. Here he was, the butt of the joke again. 

"I'll… clean up,” he muttered in embarrassment, pulling himself to his feet and starting to gather up the empty plates. The best thing to do was just to get out of there before he could make more of a fool of himself. 

“Aw come on, Lance,” jeered Hunk. “We’re just kidding.”

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Coran added pointedly, observing the bulging pile of food goo at the top of Lance’s bundle.

“I’m not hungry,” Lance replied with as light a shrug as he could muster, gathering the last of the empty plates and heading for the door. “I’ll catch you guys later,” he called over his shoulder, and then as an afterthought; “Bye, Keith.”

He couldn’t relax until he was sure no one had followed him. Of course no one had. Why would they? Everything was fine. Lance was just being silly. Silly Lance. Goofball Lance.

Screw-up Lance.

He could imagine them now, laughing about his clumsiness. That would last about two ticks before they moved on and forgot about him. They probably had more important things to talk about. Without him.

That was fine. He didn’t mind, not really. He probably deserved it. He still had to prove himself.

One day soon he’d show that he was responsible enough not to do stupid things like fall for dangerous strangers… or out of his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest_pebble: Uh hey, it's uh, ya gorl, uh @honest_pebble. Anyway hey, I hope you liked this chapter! We worked really hard on it and it leads to the next chapter (obviously) which oh boy is pretty crazyyyy. Enjoy that good Klance content!


	3. Chapter 3, Yeet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is on a mission to take control of a rogue Galra base, but Lance has his own mission, one that he won't jeapordise, no matter what it costs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Hey! I do love a good action scene, especially with some angst thrown in. And finally, we get some story from Keith's POV, woo! Hope you enjoy this chapter, guys, and a huge thank you to everyone who's been commenting; it genuinely makes my day every time and the support has been overwhelming so early in the story. You're all awesome!
> 
> I just realised that archive hasn't been copying across my italics so fml I guess I'll have to fix that.
> 
> It also occurs to me that I've been forgetting to post trigger warnings so just to let you know, this chapter has mentions of blood and violence. Oh, and also, Lance says the f-word, in case that bothers you.

Lance dodged sharply to the side as a round of shots whizzed past him, readjusting his aim and letting out a couple of blasts in retaliation. His blood ran hot with adrenaline, booming angrily in his temples at each laser that came a little too close to singeing his helmet; pulsing in his arms as he held them steady to take a shot, his fingers throbbing with nervous energy as they gripped at his weapon.

_**Don’t mess up.** _

It was hard to ignore the stink of burnt flesh and hair curling in his nose but harder still to find a stable mark through all of the bodies. His eyes snaked across the scene, peering between soldiers and sentries and paladins until he felt that stab of instinct that told him, _**“There, now!”**_

He took the shot, watching with satisfaction as his enemy jerked and fell to the floor. 

As he scanned for his next target, he quickly surveyed the situation. Hunk was picking off larger groups of Galra with his blaster as they swarmed into the room and Pidge was tinkering with a control panel on the far wall while a small group of Blades stood at her defence. Allura and Shiro had gone up ahead with their own team of Blades to confront the base’s captain and, hopefully – finally - put an end to this mission. 

Things had been going well at first. The plan was to sneak onto the base and capture the captain, putting the base under the control of team Voltron and, by extension, Emperor Lotor. They’d managed to sneak in a sizeable offence within the blue and yellow lions thanks to Pidge’s camouflage upgrades, but they’d been discovered almost immediately after their arrival, meaning that the mission had suddenly become infinitely harder.

The fighting had been going on for hours and Lance could feel the dull ache of his limbs hiding behind the adrenaline rush, but he couldn’t lose focus now. They were so close; standing right outside the main command centre. They just needed to hold off the defences until the sub-team returned with the captain in their custody, or at least until Pidge could put the base on lockdown and thin the constant stream of combatants enough for them to take a breather. 

"Hunk! On your left!" he shouted to the yellow paladin. There was a sentry running up towards his friend but there was no way Lance could shoot it with so many bodies in the way. Hearing his shout, Hunk turned and walloped the robot with his canon, blasting it as it fell to the floor. He sent Lance an appreciative nod and moved on to his next adversary.

“What’s the ETA on that barricade, Pidge?” Lance yelled a little frantically as he shot down yet another Galra soldier. How many was that now? He had no idea. He’d stopped counting after he realised how morbid the game was. And that it was never-ending. 

“They’ve updated their security since our last attacks,” she shouted back. “I’m gonna need more time.”

Of course. No rest for the weary. He would just have to keep going. No complaints. No whining. He just had to do his job; protect his friends and allies. He couldn’t fail this time. Everything he’d been training for over the last movement had led to this. He could not fail.

He heard someone shout his name and responded by whirling around, feeling his bayard shift and change in his grip until he was swinging his sword, slicing a robotic sentry in two. When he looked over to thank his ally for the warning, he saw a soldier aiming his gun right for the Blade’s head. Lance reformed his gun and shot at the assailant, crying out for the Blade to move out of the way.

Keith heard Lance shouting back at him and was confused for a fraction of a second before hearing the word “duck” ringing out towards him. Without thinking, Keith did as he was told and watched as the shot whizzed past the space near where his head had been and burrowed into an unseen soldier behind him. It wouldn’t have hit him, but he was glad for the warning anyway. 

Straightening up, he looked over at Lance who had turned back around and was focused on shooting the aliens that were attacking the others. He never looked so sure as in the heat of battle. Lance had this unfathomable focus that took over whenever danger was near and this time was no different. He took down targets as easily as buttering toast, shifting effortlessly between gun and sword as necessity dictated. It was kind of hypnotising if he let himself stare for too long.

Clearly all that training he’d been blabbering on about at dinner last movement had really been paying off. That didn’t stop Keith from questioning it though. Lance had been acting weird that night; no doubt about it. At first, he’d put it down to the paladin’s recent near-death experience and the stress thereafter, but something had felt off. The air around him felt strange, like it was heavy with a stink Keith couldn’t identify. Not only that, but there was something in the way he held himself, like he was tip-toeing over ice. It was so different to the mannerisms he’d come to expect from the boldest paladin. 

Then there were the eyes; dark and shifting and filled with something that made Keith’s gut squirm with discomfort. It was something so un-Lance that made him ache with a longing he hadn’t known he’d had. He’d missed Lance, sure – he’d missed all of his friends since he’d left to join the Blade full-time – but this was something stronger. It was like he’d returned only to find that something was missing – something he needed - and he felt selfish for thinking it. Of course, things were going to change after he’d left - that was inevitable - but he couldn’t help but feel a little hollow sitting across from a Lance that, by his coldness, seemingly wished he’d never come back.

Keith slashed at another galra soldier, venting his frustrations; and then another, and another. It was neither healthy or smart to let himself get so wrapped up in his own head during the middle of a battle like this, but it was hard not to. He hadn’t gone a day since that dinner without thinking about Lance. He hadn’t gone a day since he’d left the team if he was being honest. He’d thought they’d grown close enough over their time as paladins together; that their bond would stand the separation, but he guessed he’d been wrong. Lance was back to hating him. That was fine. He didn’t care.

He stabbed through another robot with a grunt uncharacteristic to the silent manner of the Blades. It was a never-ending stream of ferocity. They never let up. Victory or death, he supposed.

How much longer was this going to take? His muscles protested to every movement, exhaustion beginning to sap his strength. The others must be feeling the same; even the more experienced Blade members. They just had to hold out a little longer. Just a little longer.

Keith kicked out at a soldier and swiped with his blade at a sentry, then sprinted forward and rammed into another one which was angling for Pidge, setting his stance in a new position and preparing for another wave of assailants. He looked around to identify his next attacker, but his eyes lingered on Lance when he saw movement over his shoulder. 

He locked onto the soldier running at the red paladin with a sword, its sharpened edge glinting dangerously, and realised with a twinge of fear that he was too far away to intervene. Lance may be a dick, but that didn’t mean Keith wanted to see him get hurt. His chest grew tight at the idea.

A warning began frantically clawing its way up in his throat, but paused when his eyes caught the red paladin whipping around and catching sight of his attacker. He was fine. Of course, he was. Keith wasn’t needed here.

However, to Keith's great disbelief, Lance quickly turned away again, ignoring the imminent threat to his life. What was he doing?! Was he trying to get himself killed?! 

Keith’s feet were already moving before he could even give the command to his aching legs. He knew he wasn’t going to make it in time. Why was Lance doing this?! Idiot! Idiot!

He followed Lance’s line of sight and discovered the reason for his distraction. An unarmed sentry was poised to send a fist into the back of Hunk’s head. 

To shout now would be signing Lance’s death certificate. There was nothing he could do except hope that the moron would turn around at the last second and defend himself. Maybe it was some kind of joke. Lance was just playing with Keith. He knew he had been watching him and was trying to teach him a lesson for staring. This couldn’t be happening. Not really. Please let it be a joke.

The Galran with the sword was a mere hairsbreadth away as Lance settled his aim and pressed the trigger. Keith found himself reaching out and took a painful gasp just as the shot was released, Lance finally twisting and his gun glowing as it changed its form. 

It changed too late.

Keith felt his heart stop, that hollowness returning in a new guise; utter and all-consuming fear. 

“LANCE!” he screeched, watching as the enemy’s sword knocked aside the bayard from Lance’s hand as easily as a pesky fly and bit through the armour of his right arm like it was made of nothing more than glass.

Lance’s scream rang clear above the din of battle, finding Keith’s ears and drilling inside of him, twisting up his insides until he forgot how to breathe.

Keith roared as he bolted the last few inches, crashing into the alien, who looked about ready to throw a second strike. The soldier was taken off-guard and Keith tackled him to the ground, wrapping his hand around the guy’s throat as he brought his hilt down hard on his head. The first blow had knocked him out instantly, but that didn’t deter Keith from getting in a second hit. And a third.

The Galra’s blade lay loose in his palm now, the edge painted with an uncomfortably cheery red smile, taunting him. If Lance had delayed any longer, that blade would have gone straight through his helmet. Straight into his skull.

He willed himself to take a deep breath and spun to check on his friend. Hunk was already at Lance’s side, fear radiating from his expression.

"Buddy? Lance?" 

Pain screamed through Lance's arm. He forced himself to sit up with a staggered groan, trying to breathe through the bubbling agony as he clutched at the wound. Looking down, he saw fat crimson tears seeping through the cracks in his armour and he cradled the wound, hissing through his teeth. 

“ _ **Fuck,**_ ” he gasped as Hunk moved in with his shield, protecting him from further harm.

He needed to get up. He needed to keep fighting. He tried to, but the slightest shift made pain break anew, and a chill grew in his chest as he realised he wouldn’t be able to fight like this.

That couldn’t be it. He had to fight. He couldn’t be done. He couldn’t be useless.

Lance’s heart jolted as a massive bang rang throughout the room. He locked onto the source of the noise, squinting through the bright cyan of Hunk’s shield, and he saw that Pidge had finally managed to get the door down. There was still, however, the matter of the enemies trapped inside with them.

“Lance, we’ve got to move,” said Hunk, an edge of panic clear in his voice. He hooked his arm around Lance’s waist and pulled him carefully to his feet. Seeing the chaos rising around them at the prospect of a last push, Lance allowed himself to be swept away as he tried to gather his disjointed thoughts.

They stumbled over to the side of the room as shots rained down upon Hunk’s shield and a couple of Blades jumped in behind them to make sure they weren’t followed. 

They swung behind a column and Hunk set Lance’s back against it where he would be out of the way of any stray – or aimed – bullets.

“You okay, dude?” he asked, all concern. He sucked in a sharp breath, taking another look at Lance’s injury. “Oh G- Okay this is fine, this is fine. We just need… uh… something to wrap it and, uh, and-"

“’m good, Hunk,” Lance mumbled, trying to force himself up again but Hunk’s hand came down on his shoulder, urging him to sit back down.

“Woah, take it easy, bud. You’re not going anywhere unless it’s a healing-pod.” 

“I’m not gonna just sit here,” grunted Lance in protest, making a second attempt. He had to help the team. The battle would be over soon; he just needed to get through it and then he could worry about the damage to his arm later. It wasn’t his priority. The team was his priority.

Hunk’s hands came down on him more firmly this time and his caramel eyes hardened trapping Lance within them. “Hey, hey, chill. We’ve got this. We’re pretty much done already,” he reasoned. “We don’t need you getting hurt again,” he finished with a smile. 

He’d said it kindly, but the words still stung. Lance didn’t want to be brushed aside as a liability, waiting while his friends rescued him yet again. They needed him. He just had to show them that. They _**had**_ to need him. 

Hunk straightened up and summoned his blaster, disappearing around the corner and Lance scowled with determination, ignoring his friend’s instructions and attempting to pull himself up using the column. Pain was still tearing through his arm but he tried his best to ignore it as he reached for his bayard, only to realise that it wasn’t at his side. Of course – he’d dropped it when that soldier had attacked him.

He decided to risk peeking around the corner to try and spot his weapon. However, as he stretched out from cover, his face collided suddenly with an armoured chest and he was thrown back to the floor, his uninjured arm alternating back and forth between his wound and now also bleeding nose as he muttered obscenities in multiple languages.

“Shit. Lance?” came a familiar voice tinged with worry.

“Keith?” Lance countered in disgruntled shock, looking up at the Blade standing above him.

“Yeah,” was the only reply. Keith stuck a hand out to help him up and Lance took it. His vision throbbed and twisted as he leapt up too fast and Keith caught him as he wobbled.

“You need to sit down,” he said more softly than Lance would have expected.

“You shouldn’t have pulled me off the floor then,” snarked Lance, wrenching himself away from the Blade. He then noted the tool in his hand. “Give me the bayard,” he demanded.

“Lance,” Keith began, but Lance snatched the device from his grip. He pulled it up as the gun formed and winced at the complaints of his injury, but didn’t relent. He wasn’t giving up, yet. He couldn’t give up yet.

He was about to break into a run but Keith snagged his left arm from behind and pulled him back behind the pillar. His grip was gentle, yet firm, ensuring no escape from the intensity of those sharp violet eyes as his mask flowed away.

“I can’t let you go back out there,” he argued, his glare flickering with some brief emotion that Lance assumed was anger.

“You’re not in charge of me, Keith. You don’t 'let' me do anything.” Lance tried to break free but Keith wasn’t finished, as determined to keep him there as Lance was to go.

“I saw what you did,” he said, his face darkening. “I’m not gonna let you rush out there just to get shot.”

Lance glared at him open-mouthed, feeling his heart stutter in anger and hurt. “I made a mistake! I’m not completely helpless, Keith!” Childish. He sounded like a child.

Keith shook his head, his voice almost a growl. “That wasn’t a mistake. You knew what you were doing. You looked straight at that guy and decided not to defend yourself. What were you thinking, Lance?!” His voice cracked as his temper took over and Lance felt Keith’s hand tighten uncomfortably around his arm.

He tugged away again, more desperately this time and Keith seemed to get the message, letting him go. 

“I was thinking that Hunk was in danger!” he retorted, cradling his injured arm. “Was I supposed to just let that robot hit him?”

“Hunk could’ve taken a punch! You almost got yourself killed!” They were practically forehead-to-forehead and Lance could taste Keith’s shaking breath, hot and sweet. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was honestly surprised that his legs were still carrying him with how much they were shaking.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Lance turned to see Pidge and Hunk behind him and realised with a pained thump in his chest what that meant, every inch of him going still.

“It’s over?”

“Yeah,” said Pidge. “In here, at least.”

The intercom system clicked to life and Shiro’s voice boomed around the room, and presumably the whole base, announcing the captain’s surrender and that team Voltron had won the day.

Lance felt all the fight leave his body, and his friends’ celebrations were cut short as they raced to catch him before his knees hit the floor. That was it. Chance over. He’d screwed up yet again and the opportunity to make up for his mistakes had been stolen from him because he’d been stupid enough to get sucked into this petty fight. Is that what Keith had planned? Was he just the distraction to keep Lance out of the way?

“Lance? Lance, you gotta speak to us, buddy,” Hunk flustered in front of him and Lance shuddered back into reality.

“S-sorry,” he said, his eyes floating up to his friends’ concerned faces. “’m here.” 

“Can you walk? Do you need me to carry you?” 

“No,” he said robotically. “I’m just tired. I can manage.”

“Good. You can sleep when you’re dead,” Pidge dead-panned, then thought better of it, a cautious smile coming upon her face. “Or at least wait till we get to a healing-pod.”

Lance only gave a nod in reply, unsure in his daze if the smile he’d intended had actually reached his lips. 

Keith wondered what he was thinking. He was clearly a world away, the blue of his eyes misty and glazed. He looked worryingly drained, wilting more and more by the second and Keith was reminded of the blood still leaking from both his arm and nose. 

Despite his anger at the paladin’s recklessness, Lance was still badly hurt and this probably wasn’t the time to start another shouting match, so instead, he pushed aside the fire burning in his belly and heating his heart and acted on the one emotion that would drive him forward at this point; fear.

“Hunk, make sure the path is clear for us,” Keith said abruptly and he reached forward to pull Lance’s uninjured arm over his shoulder, his hand slipping around his waist. Lance grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t pull away this time for which Keith was grateful.

Reinforcements had begun arriving, judging by the rumble of ship engines from behind the walls. These were to transport prisoners off of the base and round up anyone resisting arrest. The Blades and team Voltron were to head back to the lions, their job done.

Keith looked down at the crimson streaks running across Lance’s pale, white armour and, not for the first time, resented the fact that they were made to do so much of the dirty work while Lotor and his forces hung back to claim the prize. They were the ones taking risks and losing soldiers, so why was it that all the glory went to Lotor? Keith wasn’t particularly interested in glory, of course, but a few less heart attacks would be nice. He almost shivered to think how close Lance had been to becoming part of the sea of soldiers swept into oblivion by this war; how close they all had been on one occasion or another.

What was this guy’s deal anyway? Did Lance get off on being self-sacrificing, or was it the near-death experiences that did it for him? How many sleepless nights had Keith experienced purely due to something stupid Lance had done? Sure, he’d had nightmares about losing everyone, but aside from Shiro, Lance had the most frequently recurring role. It was strange because Lance was far from reckless; or at least he had been. How much did Keith really know about him anymore? He felt that darkened aura radiating from the paladin’s body again as he spared a glance in his direction. Not a lot it seemed.

As they made their way back to the castle, Lance was worryingly quiet. Keith had been pleased by the silence mere doboshes ago but now it was disconcerting. Everything about Lance lately was disconcerting. What was going on with him, and why was he being so cagey about it?

As they touched down in the castle and the crowd of Marmora agents filtered out into the hangar, Keith knew he’d only have a few more moments before someone came to whisk the paladin off to a pod and, at the risk of being snapped at, convinced himself to just go for it and try talking to Lance.

“How’re you doing?” he asked awkwardly.

“A little woozy,” admitted Lance, leaning heavily into Keith’s side. “I know I messed up.”

That surprised Keith. It usually took Lance a lot longer to admit he was wrong, especially when it was to Keith.

“Can you…” Lance trailed off and Keith was worried for tick that Lance was losing consciousness. His face was turned away towards the floor.

“Can you,” continued Lance, “not tell the others about what I did?”

They stopped walking as they reached the bottom of the ramp.

“You don’t want me to tell them about –"

“No,” said Lance firmly. “Let them think it was an accident. I can’t let them know I made another stupid decision. They already don’t trust me.”

Keith had to consciously stop his jaw from dropping, though couldn’t hold back the short noise that escaped in his shock. “Lance, that’s not –"

“How is he?” Shiro asked Keith, oblivious to having cut him off. He approached the two of them with Allura and Pidge in tow and Keith could now hear Hunk jogging up from behind them.

“Is he okay?” he fretted.

“I’m fine,” replied Lance shortly and Keith could feel him pulling away. Keith wanted so hard to hold onto the paladin and confront him about what he’d just said, but his eyes were heavy-lidded and his breathing short and pained. This wasn’t the time, and clearly not the place either, surrounded by the very people Lance had just asked him to keep a secret from. Maybe he’d misspoken when he’d said they didn’t trust him; a random thought plucked from exhaustion-induced delusion. He couldn’t possibly think that could he?

Keith allowed Hunk to push him aside and take Lance, although he suddenly felt wrong without that weight on his shoulder. It was like a rift had opened between them and no understanding could cross the gap. He wanted to reach out and grab his hand, or even just brush his arm. He was sure the contact would help him figure this out, that the mystery would fall apart and he’d find Lance beneath those layers. He wanted to offer something; whatever little he had. Lance needed… something.

The paladins offered him thanks and goodbyes and Keith dutifully kept his mouth shut, his eyes following Lance out of the room. 

Whatever doubts he’d had after that single dinner had increased ten-fold. They didn’t just sit quietly in the back of his mind anymore; now they were scratching at the walls, urging him to put the pieces together before the questions could tear him apart. Something was definitely wrong and Keith was aching to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest_pebble: "Hey, how you doing well I'm doing just fine I lied I'm dying inside" - that vine  
> Anyway hi! Is it just me that, when Keith was holding Lance back, thought of the vine that's like "I really can't stay, BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE, I've got to go away, BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE"?  
> Okay but seriously, sorry for this chapter... it was kinda sad huh? Welp, I mean, just wait for later!


	4. Chapter 4, Gays of Yore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Keith is on the case, but things may be worse than he thinks... Maybe it's time for a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: It is Wednesday my dudes: aaaaaAaAaAaAAAAAAAH! In this chapter, we see Keith being a worried mess, and Lance being a stubborn asshole. These poor gays need help. Luckily, they're gonna get it, whether they want it or not. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> honest_pebble: Well hey there, it's ya gorl again @honest_pebble and oh boy I am tired.   
> Sorry this chapter is up a bit later than last week, I've just been very busy recently with tests at school (ew) and that good real life drama. Anyway, hope you're all doing good and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!   
> (I'm trying really hard to think of vine references for these chapters but it's actually very hard, if I do say so myself, I say so) (does anyone have any ideas? Please?)

After that last mission, Keith’s thoughts didn’t stray from Lance for long. More than once, he’d caught himself wasting precious hours of sleep in favour of analysing Lance’s recent behaviour. Most troubling of all were Lance’s parting words to him.

_**“They already don’t trust me.”** _

He kept hearing it looping round and round in his head, the subtle break in Lance’s voice pulling at his heart each time he remembered it. It spoke of his submission. He’d accepted that statement as fact; no twang of anger or derisive snap to his words. He’d been completely serious.

This left Keith in an uncomfortable position morally – as much as he wanted to reassure the paladin, he couldn’t trust himself to know for sure whether Lance was, in fact, wrong about what he’d said, and he certainly didn’t want to lie to him. He hadn’t been around. He couldn’t know how the team dynamic may have changed in his absence, especially following Lance’s big screw-up. From the sounds of it, the whole thing had been a huge disaster and he didn’t doubt that there would be noticeable repercussions. Maybe Lance was right. Maybe they didn’t trust him anymore; or at least not in the way they used to. Keith certainly wouldn’t, having now seen how flippantly the paladin had been throwing himself into danger as of late. Maybe they were just scared of what he might do. Keith, currently stewing in the fearful juices of his own anxiety, could relate. 

This is what lead him to setting up another visit to the Castle of Lions. If he wanted any hope of ever getting a good night’s rest again, he needed to know that Lance wasn’t going to go doing something stupid behind his back; that he wasn’t going to jump in front of any more swords or explosions. Keith didn’t know what he’d do if one day he returned to the Castle to find that Lance was gone. The mere thought had him gritting his teeth, an involuntary sigh of panic rushing from his nose and leaving his chest aching with emptiness.

Krolia regarded her son curiously, amber eyes scanning him like search-lights. He wondered what exactly she was looking for. It had been a simple request; nothing that should arouse suspicion.

“Kolivan will not be pleased,” she mused aloud, her gaze unrelenting.

“Why not?” he retorted calmly. “I don’t have any missions lined up for a couple of quintants, and the information needs to be delivered – what does it matter if I do it in person?”

“It doesn’t,” she admitted, “but you saw them so recently. Is something wrong?”

She squinted at him with concern, her eyes following the nervous fidgeting of his hands folded across his chest. She was very intuitive. It was one of the first things he’d learnt about her. He supposed living years under-cover would give you a keen sense for recognising behavioural patterns; anything resembling suspicion or agitation.

Keith lowered his eyes to the opposite wall. “There’s something I need to check on,” he said vaguely. He wasn’t used to this mother-son relationship thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her – since their first abrupt meeting, they’d had some time to talk things through and get to know each other – but he still wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work. He wasn’t ready to treat her like a mother yet. Maybe someday, but not yet.

Despite his reluctance, she seemed to understand that this “something” was important. 

“I’ll talk to Kolivan,” she assured, setting a hand on his shoulder and catching his eyes again. “I hope that everything turns out okay.” She offered a small smile and he returned it, thanking her before heading for the hangar and picking out a pod.

He sent a message out to the Castle of Lions to inform them that he was coming and then settled in for the flight, his mind wandering in its usual direction. 

It had struck Keith that maybe he was over-reacting – after all, injuries weren’t uncommon for soldiers such as the paladins. They were at war and that meant to escape unscathed would be a miracle. Despite this logic, Keith couldn’t convince himself that there wasn’t something darker at work here. Lance was normally a lot more careful and precise in his method. The way he’d simply left himself open to attack; that was more reminiscent of Keith’s old erraticism. Pairing that with all that Keith had seen of Lance’s mood lately only left him feeling uneasy. Lance _**loved**_ to whine, especially to Keith; he couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to tell the boy to shut up using even all of his fingers and toes. That’s why his reservation was so out of place. He might have dismissed it if the behaviour had been directed solely towards Keith, but Lance was acting strange around even his closest friends. He’d heard at dinner how he’d been avoiding them. He’d seen first-hand how reluctant Lance was to say anything meaningful to them.

But what did it mean?

He wished he’d had a chance to talk to Shiro about all of this before he’d left. Shiro was good at this kind of stuff – people and emotions; Keith was not. Saying that, Shiro had apparently said some pretty harsh things to Lance following his accident. 

The dinner Keith had spent at the Castle of Lions, about two movements ago now, had started off with some very snippy comments from the two younger paladins and had escalated into a full-on intervention. At first, Keith had been inclined to take Shiro’s side, having known the man for a long time and being absolutely sure that nothing he said was ever said unfairly, but seeing the way his friend had reacted in shame, he’d come to realise that maybe this was more serious than a simple disagreement. He almost couldn’t believe what Hunk told him. Shiro had effectively blamed Lance for everything that had gone wrong the day that the team had lost their informant. Lance, understandably, hadn’t taken it well.

When the paladin in question had finally arrived, Keith put his odd behaviour down to embarrassment or guilt, but seeing how Lance had handled the apology, it was clear that he was ready to move on without a grudge. So, why was he still acting so strange? To put it simply, he had been a jerk; an evasive jerk. He’d figured Lance was just mad at him, probably for leaving the team – he’d picked up hints here and there, such as the awkward stares and general irritability - but his opinion had shifted after last week’s battle. 

Keith hadn’t been able to deny that there was something incredibly off about the paladin. Everything about him just screamed _**wrong**_ , setting off alarm bells in Keith’s head. He’d known then that something had to be done, but the truth was that Keith had no idea how he was supposed to figure out what was going on. He couldn’t let it go, though. The black hole of anxiety slowly growing within his stomach wouldn’t let him. 

It was a familiar feeling, taking him back to those days spent in the desert, tirelessly working to find the slightest bit of evidence to help bring back his only friend from somewhere far beyond the stars – somewhere far beyond his comprehension – tearing his hair out when every attempt to make progress failed him and he was reminded of just how alone and scared he really was.

He wasn’t alone this time though. He remembered how his friends, after only knowing them for a few hours, had helped him unlock a mystery that had been evading him for months. Perhaps, in the same way they’d found the blue lion together, they could help him rescue her old paladin from whatever pit he was falling into. He resolved himself to speak to Hunk about it as soon as he could. He was Lance’s best friend. He had to know something.

When Keith finally arrived, he exited his ship and dropped down onto the deck where the whole team waited for him. They all held smiles except for the one person whose he’d been hoping to see.

The hole in Keith’s stomach opened up a little wider, his shoulders drooping in disappointment. He hadn’t really expected everything to have gone back to normal in one short movement, but he had also been praying things wouldn’t have gotten worse.

Lance stood at the back of the group, his eyes cast towards the floor over Keith’s shoulder, his eyes ringed with a raw darkness. He looked harder, yet also, somehow, as if he could be knocked over by a slight gust of wind. His jaw was square and firm as if he was biting his tongue and the light clutched at his cheekbones as if dangling from a cliff. He looked so… hollow; an empty crab shell washed up on the beach, still holding its form but ready to cave in should some giant foot come down upon it unaware.

“What’s the news, Keith?”

Shiro’s voice broke him from his mind and Keith forced himself to remind himself why he supposedly came here in the first place.

“Our spies tell us that one of Sendak’s smaller fleets will be converging on Halicon in two movements. The Blade is requesting Voltron’s assistance in taking it down before it can reach the planet.”

Allura turned to Coran. “The Haliconians have expressed interest in joining the coalition before, have they not?”

“Indeed, princess,” he replied, twirling the end of his moustache thoughtfully. “We haven’t been in contact with them for several movements; possibly because of increasing pressure of invasion?”

She nodded, turning back to the group. “We must lend our assistance in any way we can.”

“The Blade will be in contact within the next few quintants to work out the plan,” explained Keith, “so we need you to make sure you’re still within communication range.”

Shiro bobbed his head in agreement, a suggestive smile growing across his face. “I’m curious, Keith; why did you come all this way to deliver that small piece of information?”

Keith looked around at them all, his eyes flitting over Lance last of all. Lance’s gaze jolted away, staggering down to his wrist which he cradled tightly in his other hand.

“I wanted to see you guys. That’s alright isn’t it?” he asked in confusion, worried he’d over-stepped some boundary by showing up last-minute. Everyone’s faces lit up; except for Lance’s. He seemed to be a world away.

“Aww, buddy!” cried Hunk, wrapping his big arms around Keith and ruffling his hair. If it had been anyone else, Keith would have slapped them away.

“You’re such a softy,” grinned Pidge.

“Do you have to go right away?” asked Allura.

“No, I have a few vargas.” He looked over at Hunk, remembering his plan, but he felt his eyes drawn back over to the red paladin, who had yet to say a word. 

“Actually,” he said, “I was hoping to take you up on that duel, Lance.”

The paladin jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, his wide eyes finally meeting Keith’s. The mistiness melted away, though his irises still looked rather faded. 

“What?” he choked in surprise.

“I want to see how you work with your sword,” Keith replied as if nothing was amiss, his lips lifting into a small smile.

“Oh, I’ll bet y-“ Pidge was cut off by a sharp elbow from Hunk.

Lance didn’t even seem to notice his team-mate’s innuendo, eyes fixed on Keith, brows pulling together as if trying to figure out where the trick was. 

“Sure…” he said carefully as if that one word were some kind of trigger, bound to bring disaster upon him.

This only plunged Keith deeper into his own questioning. What about a request to spar appeared so maleficent? Keith used to ask him from time to time back when he’d been a paladin, so it wasn’t anything new. Why was Lance so suspicious? What did he think Keith would do?

Coran stepped forward slightly, raising a finger. “Actually,” he intervened, “Lance, I was hoping you would –“

“Later, Coran,” said Lance, but it wasn’t harsh. Keith saw the first hint of a smile on his lips. It was fond and obviously meant to be reassuring, but still harboured whispers of a deeper melancholy. Keith watched Coran’s frown deepen, but he didn’t say anything further.

Before his head could start spinning with the implications of this interaction too, Pidge piped up.

“Well, if you losers get bored of swinging your sticks around, you know where to find us. Come on, Hunk. We’ve gotta work out those bugs before dinner.” She tugged on the big guy’s arm and they hastily waved as she led him from the room.

“Please, excuse me,” said Allura. “I need to get in contact with the rebel forces and request some extra fighters for our cause. Would you accompany me, Shiro? As a formality?”

Shiro gave his affirmation and they likewise left the hangar with a wave.

And then there were three.

Coran was still staring at Lance, but the paladin pretended not to notice, his own gaze still fixed curiously on Keith.

“Training deck’s this way, if you still remember,” he said, the attempt at a joke falling as flat as his tone. He turned and headed for the door. Keith had been moving to follow him when a hand landed abruptly on his shoulder.

“Go easy on him,” whispered Coran, his face pinched with concern.

“What do you mean?” Keith asked suspiciously, wondering if Coran had also caught onto Lance’s strange behaviour.

The man bit his bottom lip, his moustache quirking at a weird angle. “He’s been working hard; _**too**_ hard, if you see what I mean. See if you can get something out of him. He won’t talk to me.”

“He won’t?” Keith found that surprising. Lance didn’t tend to hide things from anyone, but then, every move he had made lately felt sort of clandestine. He’d been hammering up walls around himself and Keith was standing on his tired tippy-toes trying to get a peak at what laid on the other side.

Coran shook his head just as Lance’s popped back around the door frame. “I’m not waiting all day, Mullet,” he said, good humour turning to agitation in his voice.

Coran plastered on a smile. “My bad! Was just asking Keith if he’d come across any flubbernaut shells on his travels. I’m trying to grow my collection.”

Lance raised an eyebrow but quickly disappeared again and Keith threw back a questioning look at the advisor as he exited the room, one that Coran answered with a laboured smile.

Keith rounded the corner and the hangar slipped out of sight. It was just him and Lance and all of Keith’s jumbled up theories and concerns, fighting for purchase on the walls of his addled brain before they could slip away.

“Do you even know what a flutter-whatever is?” asked Lance as Keith came level with him. His eyes floated up to the corner of the ceiling, as far from Keith’s gaze as possible.

“Not a clue,” admitted Keith truthfully. For all he knew, Coran had made the word up knowing that the two of them wouldn’t know the difference. The paladins had always speculated on whether the older man fabricated random words purely to see if they’d believe him, but had come to the conclusion that Coran was just well travelled. Or a tad insane. Either would be believable. 

Keith yearned for one of those casual conversations. They used to speak so easily to each other. Now, every word stuck like tar on their tongues.

“How’s your arm?” Keith spat out after a few too many seconds of silence.

Lance’s expression darkened, his left hand moving up to where his wound would have been, and Keith knew he’d misspoken. 

“Right,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “If you’re gonna mock me, can you get it over with?”

There was that hostility again. Keith had always had a talent for rubbing people the wrong way but, somehow, he didn’t feel like it was his fault this time. 

“I’m not mocking you,” Keith said with the beginnings of a scowl. “I was genuinely asking.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fine. Mystery solved.”

“What’s your problem?” Keith countered before he could convince himself it might be a bad idea. “I’m not allowed to be worried?”

“You don’t need to be worried,” Lance bit, then looked up, studying his face for a moment, before letting his gaze drop to the floor. “I just wanna forget about it, okay?” he said gruffly. “You already told me your opinion. I don’t need to hear it again. I’m not some idiot who can’t take orders.”

_**Orders?** _

“I didn’t give you any orders,” replied Keith, wondering where such a random thought had stemmed from.

“You told me to stay out of the way,” snorted Lance, still refusing to meet Keith’s stare.

“I told you to sit down,” Keith asserted, trying to lean around and catch his eye. “You were hurt, Lance.”

The paladin let out a low sound like a growl, his head finally snapping around. “I already told you I don’t need to hear this lecture again. I’ve learned my lesson. Let it go.” By the end of the last sentence, the fire had drained from his voice. Instead, he sounded tired. It was almost a plead and Keith felt guilty by it. He decided not to push it any further; for now, at least. 

Keith realised with an inward sigh that Lance wasn’t going to respond to his usual method of impulsive and relentless probing. He’d need to get on his good side if he had any hope of getting some answers. Lance wasn’t comfortable around him - it seemed as if he felt like he was being judged. Whatever the case, Keith figured that the best course of action would be to appeal to the paladin’s inflated ego. No matter how odd Lance was acting, there was no way he would be able to resist the charm of a few well-placed compliments.

“I saw you working with your sword on that mission,” Keith tried as they walked through the door onto the training deck. “You’re not bad.” He expected Lance to protest, telling him he was in fact fantastic with the sword or something of the like, but instead the paladin merely shrugged.

“I’ve been practising.”

They paused when they reached the centre of the room and Lance reached for his bayard, his fingers shaking ever so slightly.

Keith frowned. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Lance replied sharply and Keith got the feeling it wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question today.

“Okay, well –“ Keith drew his blade from its sheath and watched it grow in his grip, Lance’s bayard flashing and extending into his own broadsword – “show me what you got.”

Lance’s lips flattened into a firm line and his eyes locked with Keith’s. Then, he lunged. Keith parried the blow and thrust forward only to be blocked, the luxite blade screeching in a violent cacophony with his opponent’s weapon. He bounced backwards and defended against a fierce jab, then whirled to the side for his next attack.

Lance’s eyes never left him, scanning his body for indications of his next move. He was fast and intuitive and Keith was impressed, but he was also brash and desperate, leaving him open to several attacks that Keith chose not to take. Keith could almost feel the determination rolling off of him, like the bitter stench of tarmac melting in the heat. It was powerful and reeked of something unhealthy, leaving Keith feeling queasy.

Keith feinted as Lance executed a particularly skilled manoeuvre and his chest jumped with excitement despite his concerns.

“Nice one!” he grinned, moving in for the counter-attack. Lance’s eyes flashed with doubt and he had to act fast to avoid Keith’s sword; a last second save.

“Don’t distract me,” he said through gritted teeth, attempting a short jab.

“It was just a compliment,” defended Keith, brushing away the attack. “You’re really good for a beginner.”

They met in the middle as their swords clashed once more. “Seriously?” Lance said, his eyebrow arching carefully.

Keith had to take a step back to ground himself as Lance pushed forward. “You think I’d compliment you if I didn’t have to?” Keith joked, letting his teeth show.

Lance huffed out a short laugh and Keith’s heart lifted at the sound. He felt the tension that had been building inside him since his arrival slowly start to melt away. _**This**_ was the Lance he was used to; not that hollow shell that had greeted him. This Lance had a brightness that could elicit a chuckle from his worst enemy, a warmness that put people at ease. 

That one little chuckle brought all that and more to Keith and he was suddenly painfully aware how much he missed being a paladin. How much he missed being around Lance and the others. He wanted to make the most of this. He wanted to keep Lance laughing. He wanted to hold onto the warmth spreading in his veins, filling him with a new energy; a new reason to fight.

“You know,” started Lance with a timid smile, “I think you’ve gotten better too.”

Keith had some trouble talking over the swelling emotion in his chest. “I’m sorry, did you just admit I don’t suck?”

Lance’s lips curled to one side, a spark of something lighting in his rich blue eyes. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.” He swung his blade full-circle, Keith’s eyes widening as it clashed against his with greater strength than before. “Maybe if you beat me, I’ll change my mind.”

Keith pushed back against him, his grin returning full-force. “You’re on.”

They fought on for a while, neither one able to gain the upper hand for more than a few seconds. Lance didn’t shut up in all that time either. He came at Keith with teasing words as often as his blade and though his natural instinct after a while was to tell Lance to shut up, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something so free about the paladin, as if he’d been bottling this up for a while. 

Keith still needed to ask about that. Lance’s behaviour may seem less unusual now, but that didn’t change the fact that his eyes were lined with shadows, his cheeks were less full and his irises, though swimming with bright excitement now, hid something darker that Keith could only get glimpses of.

“You’re different,” Keith ended up blurting as he thrusted forward.

_**Great. Eloquent,**_ he admonished inwardly, trying to pretend that everything was normal on the outside.

“You mean better?” Lance smirked in reply, easily blocking the blow.

“Quieter,” Keith eventually answered. Lance looked confused by this, jumping aside to avoid another attack. “Not now,” Keith elaborated, “I mean earlier; before I got here.”

Lance regarded him cautiously, his entire form becoming abruptly more rigid. He came in fast with another strike. 

“How would you know what I was like when you weren’t here?” he questioned. “What are you saying?”

Keith groaned as he parried. Why was he so bad with words?

“You just seem… different.”

“You’ve said that.”

“But not in a good way.”

Offence bled into Lance's features. “One minute you’re complimenting me, the next you’re insulting me – make up your mind, Keith.”

Keith ducked just in time to avoid Lance’s blade and rolled to the side, gaining a new angle. He came at Lance with a fierce swing and Lance had to step back to defend. He wished more than anything that they could drop this conversation and go back to the witty banter they’d fallen into, but seeing the way Lance had reacted; it reminded him of all of the worries he’d dropped not ten doboshes ago at the simple sound of Lance’s laugh. As much as it pained him, he needed to let them back in. Lance needed him to, whether he knew it or not. 

“I’m not trying to insult you,” tried Keith gently, “I’m trying to ask you what’s wrong.”

“I told you I’m fine,” Lance replied, being driven further back. All the lightness was gone now and Keith felt heavier himself in its absence. “Why are you so obsessed with this?”

“I’m not,” insisted Keith as he pushed forward, “but you’re lying.”

“I am not!” yelled Lance, like a stroppy child, attempting to gain some ground, but Keith batted his sword aside and continued with his pursuit.

“Yes, you are,” stated Keith as Lance stumbled, finally losing his footing and crashing to the floor.

“What’s your deal, man?!” cried Lance, looking up at him in outrage. “How is my life any of your business?”

“Because there’s something wrong with you!” Keith snapped, his sword levelled firmly at Lance’s neck.

Hurt crossed Lance’s features as quickly as a bullet train before anger took over again. “I don’t know what you want from me! I don’t know why I care! You’re not part of this team anymore! You don’t get a say in how I live my life or how _**wrong**_ I am!” He spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I’m trying to help!” Keith exclaimed, finally moving his sword away, realising that it might give off the wrong message when he was trying not to be so threatening.

“I don’t need your help! Just leave me alone!” 

Lance scrambled to his feet and with a cold glare, scooped up his bayard and made for the exit. There were no remnants of that brightness; no hints of warmth. Keith saw only rage and suffering in those eyes and, this time, he blamed himself completely. 

Everything had been going so well until he’d opened his stupid mouth. Lance had seemed – dare he think it – _**happy**_ , if only for a few minutes. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed it. Maybe he should have let Lance have the respite he so clearly needed, for Keith clearly wasn’t the only one who had been burdened by heavy thoughts recently. Those few moments of freedom had been bliss. It had been a taste of the past; a time before Marmora missions and disappointments and lonely nights on a strange base, far away from everything Keith had ever known or loved. He hoped Lance had felt it too, but if he had, Keith had been the one to destroy it.

With a growl of frustration, he put away his blade and stormed towards the door. As he exited, he caught a flash of yellow and whipped around to find Hunk standing a little way from the doorframe.

“Hey,” the yellow paladin said, uncertain, turning his gaze to look down the empty corridor. “That was kind of… intense.”

“You were listening?” asked Keith.

“Yeah, sorry. I heard yelling when I was walking past and I couldn’t resist.” Hunk’s gaze dropped to his fidgeting hands. “You’ve noticed too, then? He’s weird, right? Not like a ‘why is Coran wearing his underwear on his head?’ kind of weird, but like a bad weird. A really bad weird.” 

He looked up with round caramel eyes filled with sadness. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him and he hasn’t come to talk to me like he usually does – I don’t think he’s talking to anyone really and...” He took a watery breath. “I don’t think I even _**know**_ how to talk to him anymore. He’s just…”

“Different,” Keith nodded, feeling pity grow for the yellow paladin. “It’s not just you. Coran’s had the same problem. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, whatever it is that’s bugging him.”

“I’m supposed to be his best friend…” Hunk mumbled morosely.

“If he’s gonna talk to anyone, it’s you, Hunk,” assured Keith. If there was anyone on this ship that could get some info out of Lance, it would be the yellow paladin. Hunk had a real talent for talking about tricky subjects and making them seem smaller than they are. Keith remembered how he’d made him feel better about the whole half-galra thing simply by cracking a few jokes and giving him a few small reassurances. Maybe Hunk would be able to work some of that magic on Lance, even if it only served to cheer him up a bit. At this point, any small fraction of improvement would read more like a mile.

Hunk didn’t hesitate to agree. “I am going to try,” he explained, “I’m just waiting for a good time. He’ll only get mad if I push him.” He looked at Keith pointedly.

Keith crossed his arms. “He likes you more than me. You’ve already got a better chance of getting through to him.”

“After what I just heard, I don’t think that’ll be too hard, buddy,” said Hunk, closing his eyes and patiently patting him on the back.

Keith huffed at the joke, but wouldn’t hold it against him. After all, Lance had never thought much of Keith, other than them being rivals. It was his natural instinct to yell at him. Maybe things had been different for a while there, but then Keith had left. He couldn’t expect things to go back to normal. He couldn’t expect there not to be backlash for his decision.

“I should go,” Keith said and Hunk’s face dropped.

“You’re not staying for dinner?”

“I…” Keith looked back down the corridor in the direction Lance had escaped. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll try and get back soon. Let me know how it goes.”

Hunk nodded and leapt forward to envelop him in a hug. “Thanks for trying, Keith,” he smiled, lifting Keith off of the ground momentarily. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keith smiled softly in return once his feet had returned to the floor and then he left, tossing Hunk a ‘good luck’ as he headed back towards the hangar.

As he walked, he tried to reassure himself with the knowledge that Hunk was on the case. There was literally nothing else he could do right now, especially after messing up so much in the training room. He’d be lucky if Lance ever looked at him again. Hopefully, the yellow paladin could bring forth some of his patented sunshine and the next time Keith showed up, that hollow Lance would be a thing of the past. He’d give anything to see that smile again; to feel its glow; to know that Lance was okay.


	5. Chapter 5, My Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is tired. Team Punk to the rescue! All the fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: FLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> But as I always say, fluff and angst go hand in hand.  
> Also, thank you so much for all the amazing comments; they make our day!

Lance let his head fall back against the sofa cushion, watching as the white walls arched up over him and grimacing at the pain that shot up his neck. Everything hurt but he was much too tired right now to focus on anything else except the insistent pulsing behind his eyes, urged on by the brightness of the room. 

He blamed Keith; instead of sleeping last night he’d been lying awake, thinking about that stupid argument. And it _**had**_ been stupid. He remembered the exact moment that everything had come crashing down. Up until that moment, everything had been kind of unreal, in that he couldn’t believe how much fun he’d been having doing the same thing he’d done every varga of every quintant for the last two movements; but then it wasn’t the same thing because this time, Keith had been there, smiling and laughing and spurring him on. He’d played along with his stupid quips and given him advice and encouragement, and for a few doboshes, Lance had stopped thinking about the aches in his muscles or the crushing, ever-present weight on his mind. Instead, he thought only about what was in front of him; about the way Keith’s eyes flickered with a raw and powerful determination before he lunged, about the careful yet perfect arc of his blade as it came singing towards him, and about the pleased twitch of his rosy lips and flash of teeth as he struggled to fend Lance off. Lance couldn’t help but smile in return, couldn’t help the elation coursing through his blood and ease of words slipping from his formerly stiff tongue. The pure adrenaline of his growing confidence had lifted the paladin above the murky clouds of his inhibitions and left him soaring, clinging to the bright wings of an angel, feeling its light pour over him. 

He should have known not to grasp at the ethereal – these things were the stuff of hopes and dreams; not reality. They never last.

Before he knew it, he was falling, falling, falling.

_**Different.** _

_**Wrong.** _

Lance let out a low sigh and rubbed at his eyes. He couldn’t get wrapped up in this again. Every time he thought about Keith, it just hurt; more than any of his physical injuries could. He’d been so desperate for company that he’d forgotten the risks; forgotten the reason he’d chosen to stay away in the first place. His friends didn’t understand what he was trying to do – how could they? None of them had ever messed up like he had. None of them had so much to make up for. But when Keith had specifically asked to spend time with him, Lance hadn’t stood a chance against the melancholy pounding of his own lonely heart.

The truth was, people rarely sought him out anymore. Apart from Coran, who was relentless in his pestering, they’d stopped bothering him almost completely. He told himself he was pleased, but it still stung a little when he’d see his friends laughing together during mission debriefings or during the short time he’d spend at meals, if he decided to show up at all. It all felt so out of his reach now. He didn’t really blame them for giving up on him; recently, he’d only been pushing them away. Besides, they were all so colourful and lively, and these days, Lance felt like little more than a walking corpse trailing along behind them, ravenously pining for even the tiniest morsel of attention.

_**Selfish.** _

They didn’t owe him anything. It was Lance that owed them for saving his life so many times; for putting their own lives in danger in doing so. Sometimes, he still thought back to that day in the healing-pod bay and that feeling of absolute horror conjured itself anew from the darkest recesses of his mind. He remembered how it had gripped him again in the split second he’d seen that Galra sentry swinging at Hunk, how it had forced him to make a snap decision. He didn’t regret it, but he did regret the way it had turned him into dead-weight. It seemed that the only way he could be of use was by staying out of the way. How long before the others realised that?

No. He couldn’t let that happen. He just needed to work harder; to get better. He would protect them. He could make them proud.

But for now, his limbs ached and his eyelids drooped too much for him to train any longer, so he’d come to the chill-out zone and slumped across one of the couches for some much-needed rest. He just needed a few moments to put everything in perspective again. Lately, he spent all of his time in the same places, going in circles like a model train and it left him feeling strangely idle, because though he was constantly moving, he never seemed to reach an end; never seemed to get any closer to a destination. He needed to break that cycle. He needed to feel… to feel again. His passion and drive had been lost somewhere on the tracks, but somehow, he knew he wouldn’t find them there again. 

The change of scenery was working in some facet, anyway. He felt guilt rising with each breath he took as he just sat there uselessly; ineffectually. He was fighting himself on this, his exhaustion telling him to rest, and his sense of duty screaming at him to get a move on: it didn’t matter how tired he was, or how much his body protested when he tried to drag himself from bed; it didn’t matter how much harder it was getting to make himself walk even the five doboshes to the training deck; it didn’t matter how many more cuts and scrapes and bruises he accumulated, because he couldn’t stop until every shot was perfect, every slice pristine. He had to show himself – show his team mates – that he was still worthy to be here. Maybe then, they wouldn’t look at him like he was made of porcelain, as they had been doing since his most recent accident. Maybe then, they _**would**_ look at him with pride. Maybe, he’d finally feel like he deserved it.

"Lance?" Hunk's voice broke the red paladin from his thoughts. 

"Oh. Hey." He shook his head and turned to look at the two people standing on the platform behind him. How long had they been standing there without him noticing?

“Haven’t seen you ‘round here in a while,” said Pidge tilting her head down at him curiously. “Everything alright?”

Lance had to fight to stop from scowling. Why did everyone keep asking him that? He was fine. He was dealing with it. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

“I’m good,” he said, forcing a smile. “How ‘bout you guys?” 

Hunk clambered down into the pit, plonking himself down on the couch next to Lance and draping his arm over the back of the seat. It should have been a familiar warmth, but instead Lance felt the hairs at the back of his neck prickle. When was the last time he’d been so close to Hunk; to anyone, really? He smelled the familiar whiff of engine oil and herbs that usually followed Hunk around and it took him back to their days at the Garrison, when Lance would beg his friend to light a damn incense stick so that their dorm wouldn’t constantly smell like _**Lightning McQueen’s Herbal Remedies TM**_. Right now, it didn’t bother him so much though. It was oddly comforting. Despite this, he felt a twinge of shame at the urge to lean into Hunk’s side as he once would have. Surely, it would be weird if he did it now? They hadn’t talked in ages, never mind hugged and he knew that he wasn’t really ready for Hunk to leave him just yet. He just wanted to linger in the warmth a little longer. Would it be so bad to be a little selfish just for another dobosh?

Hunk smiled warmly at him. "We’re good. Just thought we’d take a break. We ran into this coding issue and thought we could come chat to you.”

Lance looked at him with wide eyes. “You were loo– I mean, you want to talk to me? About coding?”

Pidge weaselled her way into the tiny space between Lance and the couch arm and he found that he couldn’t scoot away without ending up on top of Hunk. “Not coding,” she explained. “Sometimes it’s easier to work out a problem when you stop thinking about it so hard, so, we’re here to just… chat.”

"Uh, okay. Chat about what?" Lance felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, especially with Pidge’s large golden eyes beaming out at him from behind her huge lenses. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them, but it only made him more aware of how fragile he was right now and how much he had to hide, and he really didn’t want to be pestered about his health again – Coran already reminded him at least three times a day to take it easy. He couldn’t let on how sore or tired he was or that would be the end of it – they’d lock him out of the training room permanently.

"Whatever you want,” shrugged Hunk.

Lance started to feel a little claustrophobic with them pressed so tight to his sides. He didn’t know where to put his hands. Why were they sitting so close, and why did they keep staring like that? Should he move to the other couch so they could sit together? And why the Hell was it so hard to think of a conversation topic?! 

"Oh, hello you three!" 

Lance swivelled around, pain flaring up in his side, but managed not to let out more than a squeak which would hopefully be misconstrued as surprise. When he saw that it was Coran stalking into the room, he tensed up. Whenever Coran was around, he only ever got disapproving looks of concern or yet more advice he didn’t want. He wouldn’t say anything in front of the others, right? 

Coran’s eyes flickered between the three of them and Lance wondered what he was thinking. After a short tick, his moustache curled upwards in a smile. 

"Sorry to interrupt,” said the advisor in his usual cheery tone; one that Lance didn’t get to hear much these days, “but have any of you by any chance seen a toosinbam? It's like an oddly shaped proflontery." Lance regarded him with confusion but Hunk seemed to know what he was talking about.

"I think there's one in the top cupboard in the kitchen. What’s it for?" Hunk asked curiously.

Coran’s face lit up in the way it always did when invited to talk about his heritage. "There's an old Altean dish I quite like, and I have decided to try to recreate it using what we have here in the castle! It’ll be a challenge, alright, but I have no doubt that I am up to the task! All I need now is a gogablaster, an uslurp, a tantop…” The advisor pulled thoughtfully at the end of his moustache and then circled around, heading back out the door in a daydream, murmuring foreign words to himself all the way. Lance immediately felt more relaxed, turning back around and sinking heavily into the back of the couch.

Pidge watched Coran leave with a sigh. "Y'know what food I miss most from Earth? Peanut butter cookies." 

"Oooh, yeah!" Hunk replied, practically drooling and Lance felt a smile pull at the corner of his lips at the familiarity of the expression. "Those are so good, but I miss burritos more. I would eat them for the rest of my life if I could, but there are so many different foods on Earth, I don't think I could just pick one as my favourite. I’d take anything. I’d take a bag of flour if I had too."

"Same,” huffed Pidge. “Except peanuts. I _**hate**_ peanuts." She faked a gag and Lance felt a small, involuntary chuckle jerk in his throat.

“You couldn't have your cookies without them though,” he said before he’d even realised he was going to speak. 

"Yeah, but they're so dry!" she retorted with disgust. 

“But if you got some,” Lance pointed out, “Hunk could probably make cookies out of them. Hunk could make cookies out of anything.”

“Yeah,” snorted Pidge. “Even scaultrite.”

“Hey,” countered Hunk. “Those cookies saved your life.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” admitted Pidge, holding her hands up in surrender. “I bow down to your great mastery of the culinary arts. I couldn’t cook a shoe.”

“Why would you cook a shoe?” Lance asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Maybe if I’m making _**shoe**_ -p?” she grinned and Lance spluttered with laughter, unable to hold it back in the face of a horrible pun. His ribs ached, but thankfully they mistook his groan for a reaction to the joke.

“Ugh,” moaned Hunk. “At least warn me if you’re going to do that. It’s common courtesy.”

Pidge stuck her tongue out at him and sent an elbow into Lance’s side, making him yelp. 

"You never told us what food you miss," she said without missing a beat.

Lance needed only half a tick to think on that. "Garlic knots," he said confidently as he pushed himself more upright. "My mom used to make them. She would put them out for every meal.” His smile grew as he continued. “I hated them when I was a kid though. My older brother decided to cram one in my mouth once and I was really mad because I wanted to hate it but it was reeeeally good." There was a heavy feeling in Lance’s gut and his face dipped a little with it. "I miss that."

"You miss your brother shoving food down your throat?" Hunk asked, his face twisting with amused bewilderment. Lance had half a mind to stop himself before he got started and try to bring the mood back with a stupid joke about deep-throating or something, but it had been so long since he had had a real conversation with someone; the words were tripping from his tongue before he even knew what was happening.

"Well, it was something I was used to; my brother tormenting me, my family running around and being crazy and loud. It was just childish fighting with us most of the time, but it was like that with all of my siblings. With the garlic knots, I think he was trying to get back at me for something, but I don't remember what.” Lance let out a dull laugh. “I was a pretty annoying kid, but no one really cared. It was nice, knowing that… knowing that no matter how much I annoyed them, they’d never think any less of me – they’d always love me." He rubbed a thumb gently over an old stain on the sleeve of his jacket - his sister Veronica’s work from when it had been hers. 

“You really miss them, don’t you?” said Pidge quietly, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Of course, I do, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. So, you know, whatever.” He flung a hand out casually, his eyes darting to the floor. He tried desperately to ignore that familiar uneasiness in his gut, that aching in his chest. He never let himself think about his family or Earth anymore. It hurt too much. It was a distraction from all the things he had to do here and now. He couldn’t afford to get all sappy about it; especially since he wasn’t the only one missing people. At least his family wasn’t dead like Allura’s. 

But how would he know if they were?

No. They couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let himself entertain such an abominable thought.

“I miss my mom,” said Pidge with a hopelessness that almost made Lance shiver. “Sometimes I feel really bad about leaving her behind like that. For all she knew, I was dead and so were my Dad and Matt. She was… she was all alone.”

Her eyes began to shimmer with tears and Lance’s stomach started to squirm guiltily. Quiznack! He should have known better than to bring family up. He wasn’t the only one hurting. 

“Pidge,” he began but Hunk cut him off.

“Yeah, but if you hadn’t left, you never would have found Matt or your Dad. She has her husband back because of you; she knows her son is alive because of you! I bet your mom’s really proud of you, Pidge.” He smiled so warmly at her that Lance felt like a glacier sat between them.

The green paladin let out a wet laugh, her frown morphing into a grin. “It won’t stop her from grounding me the minute I walk through the door, though.”

“Same here. My mom will probably try to confiscate Yellow from me. She won’t care how many times I’ve saved the universe, she’ll just be upset that I didn’t write home every week.”

Despite the return of his discomfort, Lance felt relief. Hunk had managed to fix his mistake and as usual, had everyone smiling again. There was no need for Lance to stick around and ruin everything again. He should just go before -

"Y'know, I like this," Pidge said suddenly.

“What?” blurted Lance, more out of shock than confusion. 

"Talking about Earth. It makes me feel closer to home and my family."

"Really?” he asked, surprised. “It kind of makes me feel further away from everything.”

“Aw, don’t worry, buddy,” said Hunk, wrapping his arm around Lance and giving him a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure we’ll be home before you know it!”

Lance allowed himself to relax into the warmth for a moment. It felt so familiar, yet so strange, like hugging a cousin you haven’t seen since you were four and too young to remember who they were. But this was Hunk. Lance knew Hunk. He was his best friend. Or, at least, he used to be. Did Lance have a best friend now? Maybe not. 

He felt the tell-tale signs of tears building in his eyes and quickly shut them, trying to trap them inside. He needed to go. He refused to break in front of them again.

A small hand landed on his back, barely there, but then suddenly, Hunk stood up, causing the pressure to disappear and Lance and Pidge to plummet a couple of inches on the other side of the cushion. Hunk’s face screamed with that kind of glee it only held when he was thinking about food.

“Ooh, ooh, idea, idea! We can’t go back to Earth right now, so what if we bring a little bit of Earth to us?” He looked at Lance slyly. “Or should I say, a little _**slice**_ of earth? Eh, eh?” 

Lance looked to Pidge for an explanation but she seemed just as confused.

“The pun only works if you set it up first, Hunk,” she clarified. 

"I _**mean**_ we could find food substitutes and make a pizza or a cake or something!" explained Hunk, his eyes glittering with excitement.

Pidge looked at him dubiously. "Is that really the best idea? What if we accidentally make a bomb or something?”

He looked back in offence. “Don’t you trust me at all, Pidgeon?! Come on, Lance. You trust me, right? Back me up here.”

Lance felt both their eyes fall onto him. 

“I…” 

As much as his instincts were pushing him to get out of there, he knew by the sense of longing calling out from inside him that he didn’t really want to. He’d missed them so much and here, lounging on a silver platter, was an open invitation to hang out with the friends he’d been so sure he was losing. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity. One day off wouldn’t be so bad, right? After all, he was doing it all for them. He only ever wanted to make them happy. Maybe this would make them happy.

"I, uh – sure, why not? I’m up for a good disaster." He added a smile for good measure and Hunk lit up again.

“That’s the spirit! See, Pidge! Two to one!”

“Hold on, I never said I didn’t wanna try it!” she retorted, jumping up from the couch.

"Great! Let’s go!"

And just like that, Lance found himself being dragged from his seat and down the halls of the castle, all the while, Hunk chattered away about all the ingredients they could try and Pidge struggled not to roll her eyes every two seconds. This was fine. This was nice. He could handle himself for a few more vargas, surely?

* * *

It wasn’t long before Lance found his mind starting to wander again. He’d been tasked with stirring the pizza sauce and found the action monotonous enough that he’d ended up drifting away from the chatter and clatter of the kitchen and, once again, into retrospection. 

He watched Hunk and Pidge battle with the egg substitute that was almost impressively hard to beat and huffed a short laugh. It all felt so normal; just like they were back in the Garrison making midnight cookies or taquitos. That was more Lance and Hunk’s thing, but they’d managed to coax Pidge along on rare occasions. Now, Lance knew better why Pidge had been so reserved back in their school days. He was kind of glad that now they’d have the chance to do this without her fighting back or worrying that she was wasting time she could be using to find her family. She was so much happier now. Lance told himself that he was happy for her, pushing back the other memories threatening to rise; the ones of him and his mom cooking back home. 

Lance had loved to help her cook. It was something they did together and no matter how often he messed up the chopping or the kneading or the baking, his mamá never refused his help. She’d look him in the eyes and tell him “every mistake can be fixed,” and show him how to do it better next time. He missed that time spent with her. He missed that guidance.

Oh no. He couldn’t do this. Not now. It just made him sad and then he’d cry. He'd been so close earlier when talking about his brother, but he couldn’t let them see him like that again. He didn’t want to see those looks of pity or worry. He’d promised himself the healing-pod room would be the last time he let himself break like that. He needed to be stronger than that. He’d just drag everyone down with him like he had earlier with Pidge. He just needed to keep smiling; to keep them smiling.

Hunk called his name but as he looked up, something exploded across his face, his vision turning white in a dramatic poof. He managed to close his eyes before any of it got inside them, fanning and coughing the stuff away.

Pidge cackled almost maniacally as Lance screeched her name with indignation.

“Sorry, dude!” said Hunk. “I tried to warn you!”

“Shouldn’t have let your guard down, McClain,” jeered Pidge, swinging her legs like pendulums from the counter she was perched on.

Lance glared at her challengingly. “Fite me, Pidgeon.”

Her grin widened and her eyes flashed with mischief. She jumped down from the counter, nudging Hunk meaningfully and the big guy’s lips quirked with an exasperated smile that confused Lance. Pidge reached for the bag of werterpuff again, but Hunk quickly grabbed her shoulder to stop her.

“Hey, guys, remember that we kinda need the ingredients for the pizza, yeah?”

“You’re no fun,” she said with a pout, rolling her eyes.

“How’s the sauce looking, buddy?” asked Hunk, scraping some kind of gloopy paste from his fingers in disgust.

“Uh, I don’t know,” he said, looking sceptically into the bowl. “Kind of like my cat ate a red crayon and coughed it back up along with a bunch of rocks.”

Pidge made a face while Hunk tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully.

“Try adding some of that carimine solution,” he replied, pointing to a small bottle on the counter, “like, two dashes.”

“How much exactly is a dash?” questioned Lance, proffering his sauce-soaked spoon cluelessly. 

“Uh, like, I dunno, four smidges?”

“Well, what’s a smidge?!” Lance asked exasperatedly, spattering yet more sauce across the counter in front of him.

A knowing look came across Hunk’s face. “A very small Pidge,” he grinned.

The paladin in question groaned. “For some reason, puns always sound a hundred percent worse coming from you. Why don’t you leave it to the pros?” She gestured between herself and Lance and he felt a pleasant flutter in his chest. Pidge didn’t often compliment him like that.

“He has a point though,” he chanced, lips curling with anticipation. “You are a bit of a _**smidget**_.”

Her mouth dropped open in outrage. “Firstly, that’s offensive. Second; don’t take his side!”

Lance gasped. “I would never! I’m not a _**smidiot**_.” He only just ducked in time to avoid the spoon flying over his head.

“Go back to your mixing, McC _ **lame**_.”

“Whatever you say, Smidgeon.”

Even a few doboshes later he could still feel the laughter lingering in his throat, threatening to burst forth at any moment. He figured it might raise some questions if he were to randomly start giggling though, so he restrained himself. With the way things were going, he’d have plenty more opportunities to laugh. This was the most fun he’d had since…

He felt his joy start to falter like water slowly draining from a bath tub. 

No! He would _**not**_ let Keith ruin this too. Why was it that whenever Lance was happy, his thoughts turned to that mullet-headed traitor?! The guy only ever caused him trouble and anguish and frustration. He wished he’d just leave him alone. He wished he’d never come back. He wished he’d stayed away and let Lance deal with his own problems, because every time he showed up it only got harder; because every time he saw those eyes like stormy amethysts, he felt trapped in their gaze, the words being pulled up through his throat and dancing on his tongue, begging for him to just _**talk**_ to Keith. Because he remembered what a relief it had been the last time he’d gone to him and he knew he couldn’t handle any more false-promises. Keith had told him everything would work out. Turns out working it out meant losing Keith, and that had never been okay in Lance’s book. It still wasn’t. Who was he kidding? He could lie to himself as much as he wanted but the truth still remained; he missed Keith.

Lance slammed the bowl of sauce down on the table a little harder than he intended to. It didn’t matter if he missed Keith. One minute he was here and the next he was gone. Lance didn’t need a friend like that. He had two perfectly good friends right here. Friends that he was beginning to feel comfortable around again. He could just be himself without them asking him what was wrong; without them _**telling him**_ that he was wrong. They already knew he was fine. He _**was**_ fine. He was finally starting to fit in again. They’d seen how hard he’d been trying and they were happy for him. Maybe this would be it; the Garrison trio, back together.

Before long, the pizza had been assembled and it didn’t look half bad in Lance’s opinion. Hunk kept nudging the pieces of horterphlegm (a foul smelling, yet delicious cheese substitute), insisting that it didn’t look quite right, but Lance and Pidge pulled him away from his creation assuring him that they’d done all they could for now.

“You need to let go, Hunk,” cooed Lance. “You have to let the pizza become who it’s meant to be.”

“But what if it doesn’t become the right thing!” sniffed the yellow paladin.

“Dear, sweet Hunk; that is the risk that every parent takes. You must trust it to find its own way.”

They finally managed to console the big guy and get the pizza cooking, but Lance couldn’t help but wonder about the strange expression on Pidge’s face. What was she hiding?

“So,” she said as the oven door clicked shut, “now that we’re done with the ingredients… FLOUR FIGHT!”

“PIDGE, NO-"

Hunk was left spluttering as a handful of werterpuff landed in his mouth. 

“No man can tame me!” she cried, turning her fierce stare onto Lance. Lance panicked.

And then he ran.

She chased him around the kitchen, aiming handful after handful of white powder at him, not caring that most of it ended up on her instead.

“This is revenge for all the time you’ve spent cooped up in that training room!” she yelled and before Lance had time to react he felt the entire bag crash heavily into his back, knocking him to the floor. He yelped loudly as he hit the tile, all of his pain abruptly coming back to him in full-force. His over-tired muscles cried out all at once as he rolled onto his back with a grunt.

“Woah, woah, woah, time out,” ordered Hunk, but Pidge had already frozen in place, pinching the arm of her glasses as she tended to when she was nervous. The larger paladin put a hand out to help Lance up and he took it, coughing at all the powder lingering in the air.

“Dude, you okay?” Lance felt irritation bubbling at the familiar question, and then on realising what it meant, the cold breath of fear. He wasn’t ready for this to end yet. They’d see right through him if he lied and then all this happiness would fall away and he’d go back to tiptoeing through broken glass; back to hiding and brooding and longing. He had to distract them from the truth. He had to keep them smiling.

“Guess I was right about the castle being haunted,” he croaked, earning him a couple of confused looks. He pulled on a smile and whispered “boo!” before lunging at Pidge. She let out a short yip of surprise and then ducked out of his way, hiding behind Hunk.

“You’ll never take me alive!”

“Well, duh, I’m already dead.”

“Hey, uh, ghost Lance?” Hunk interrupted, face still drawn with concern.

“Don’t think you’re safe,” leered Lance. “My vengeance knows no bounds; guilty and innocent alike are subject to my wrath!” 

Finally, to Lance’s relief, Hunk’s expression relaxed into a smirk. 

“Okay, okay, fine, but do you think you could put your ‘vengeance’ on hold until we’ve done the dishes? Coran might kill us all a second time if we leave all this stuff out.”

Lance made a show of considering this for a moment, though really, he was praising himself for the expert diversion. It was funny how quickly he could swing between extremities: one second cowering from the inside of a darkened hamster ball; the next, standing tall and proud, the little plastic sphere wobbling beneath his foot.

“Okay, sure,” he relented, “but after… yOuR sOuLs ArE mInE!”

Pidge snorted, blowing the werterpuff from her glasses. “Can’t steal what I don’t have.”

Hunk rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Okay, calm down, Edgelord. To the sink – chop, chop!” he commanded, clapping his hands, and the three of them got to work.

* * *

It was all going so well.

* * *

"We should probably start cleaning," Hunk said with a reluctant sigh.

“What do you mean?” questioned Lance as he leaned back, laying down on the counter, planting his hands behind his head. “We already did the dishes.”

Pidge gave him a look of disbelief. “Lance, look around. Notice anything?”

Lance followed her advice and soon came to realise what they meant. The floor was spattered with puddles from their soap sud war and the werterpuff they’d left everywhere was congealing into a thick paste. The counters (including, he now realised, the one he’d laid down on) were also coated in flour substitute and various stains from the actual cooking process.

“Ok, I see your point, but do we have to do it noooow?” he groaned, dragging himself up into a sitting position again. Honestly, he was exhausted, even more so now than earlier, despite the boost in morale. 

Shiro had wandered into the kitchen just as Hunk was pulling their pizza out of the oven. Immediately, Lance had tensed up and he hated that. He hated that whenever the black paladin was around, he felt suddenly hollow, reminded of all his failures. It wasn’t Shiro’s fault but Lance knew that the leader could tell how his presence affected him, and it ate him up inside. Shiro didn’t deserve this, just as he hadn’t deserved the team’s abuse following the incident in the healing-pod bay. The last thing Lance wanted was for the team to turn against Shiro just because he got the willies whenever the black paladin so much as breathed his way.

Shiro had faltered in the doorway, his eyes widening as they took in the scene before him. Last of all, they landed on the red paladin, and Lance shrank into his shoulders, opening his mouth to stammer some kind of excuse, but finding that he was unable to even exhale, never mind make so much as a squeak. No one else had noticed yet. 

“Hey,” said Shiro after what felt like doboshes, finally getting Pidge and Hunk’s attention. “Smells good, guys.”

“Oh, hey, Shiro!” chimed Pidge, waving as Hunk set the tray down on the counter.

“You’re just in time to taste-test our experiment!” beamed Hunk.

“Experiment?” 

Lance almost laughed at the fear that swept over the leader’s face. It gave him courage to speak up.

“It’s just pizza,” he said with a feeble smile. “Well; space-pizza, I guess.”

“Right.” He still didn’t look entirely convinced.

However, Shiro had tasted their creation and given it a raving review. They’d invited Allura and Coran to join them for a slice and soon the kitchen was bustling with hungry people, chatter permeating every nook and cranny. Lance started to feel a little overwhelmed by it all, especially by all the praise being thrown his way. It wasn’t really bad; just… odd. He’d forgotten what it was like to be apart of it all, to have done something that made people smile rather than look at him with worry. 

At one point, as he sat on the counter, surveying the cheerful scene before him, Allura had drifted over, eyes shining like stars, and given his arm a gentle squeeze. 

“It’s good to see you smiling,” she’d said. Lance didn’t really understand. He smiled all the time; made an active effort to. He wanted to ask her about it, but didn’t get a chance.

As it turns out, Coran’s own culinary adventure hadn’t been quite as successful as the trio’s and he had spent the majority of the meal trying to supress his obvious jealousy. In the end, Allura had had to lead him away before he and Hunk could get into another one of their famous cookery conflicts. This left just the humans in the kitchen, engaging in light conversation, their stomachs now surprisingly full.

Lance felt like an hourglass that had been tipped over, the heavy sand of a last chance no longer permanently resting in his gut, but instead, embracing his heart with the hope that things might actually turn out okay. Everything was finally coming together, just like he knew it would. His team accepted him. They trusted him. He was finally showing them he was worth something, even if it was for something as little as making pizza. He’d make a hundred pizzas if it meant he could linger in this feeling for a few more vargas.

Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

“Come on, man. The sooner we get started the sooner we finish,” prompted Hunk, throwing a damp cloth into Lance’s face. It peeled away, dropping into his lap with a mournful plop.

“But if we never get started,” reasoned Lance with a sly grin, “then we never have to do it…”

Pidge shook her head. “Wow, with logic like that… wait; how did you get into the Garrison again?”

“Shut your quiznack!” he shrieked, although he was in too good of a mood to actually be offended.

“Come on, Lance,” Shiro encouraged, picking up a cloth of his own. “I’ll pitch in too. We’ll be done in no time.”

Lance gave in. “Fine,” he huffed, slipping down from the counter with a yawn and wincing at the aching in his stiff shoulders. He rolled them back and massaged the base of his neck, letting out a sigh as he took up the cloth. 

After only a couple of doboshes, he found himself unable to scrub any longer and scowled at the unforgiving dough which had dried onto the counter like rock. He wiped a hand across the back of his forehead and straightened up. He was _**panting**_. Geez, what was wrong with him? When had he gotten so weak? Training was supposed to be _**helping**_ him.

He leant back against the counter with a groan of frustration and Pidge smirked up at him from where she was cleaning stains on the floor.

“It’s just one counter, Lance. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“The stuff’s really caked on though,” he complained. Just looking at how little of the surface he’d actually cleared made him want to cry. His arms were right there with him.

“Guys,” he ventured, “any chance I could do something easier, like, I dunno, sweeping?”

Pidge sat back on her knees and sighed with exasperation. “We should’ve known you’d try to weasel your way out of clean-up duty.”

Lance felt a pang of shame. “I’m not, I just-“

“Lance.” 

The paladin froze, the all too familiar sharp tone of his leader cutting his defence into tiny whimpering pieces. They dispersed through his body like shrapnel, wrenching chills from under his skin. 

“Chores or no chores,” remarked Shiro in disapproval, cloth bunched in the hand at his hip, “you’ve got to pull your own weight.”

All at once, Lance’s insecurities came crashing down on top of him like a grand piano. He realised that he’d gotten too comfortable. He’d let himself get too cocky. He’d annoyed his friends, disappointed his leader, and had been about two more complaints away from losing their trust all over again.

"R-Right. Sorry. You’re right." 

He had to fix this quickly. His gaze flickered back to the next section of counter to be wiped and he picked up the stack of dirty plates in his way, moving to lower them into the soapy water of the sink. Big mistake.

“Lance, wait!”

Lance knew he’d messed up as soon as he heard the vicious fizzling and saw the sparks popping from the stack. He reeled backwards just in time to avoid an electric shock, but there was a noise like a gun going off and he felt heat scorching his skin. 

Smoke billowed out from the bowl, clouding his vision and filling his nose. He coughed harshly, backing away from the mess. What had happened? What had he done?

Hunk and Pidge pushed him out of the way, the former brandishing a towel which he then carefully draped over the wreck.

"What happened?" Shiro asked urgently.

"I-I don't know, I just-" 

Pidge interrupted the red paladin’s shocked stammering. "Those were the _**floating**_ plates. You know, the ones that work on _**electricity**_? Lance just performed the kitchen equivalent of dropping a toaster in a bath tub.” 

“Are you ok, buddy?” asked Hunk. “You nearly got fried!”

Lance didn’t know what to say. He'd done another stupid thing. He knew those plates weren’t supposed to go in water – how long had he been living here now? His panic just got the best of him. It shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have let it. He shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have…

He shouldn’t have come here.

Suddenly the towel burst into flames behind them.

“Ah, Hunk!” cried Pidge, knocking her glasses loose as she leapt back. “Get another towel! We need to cut off the oxygen supply! Quick, before the sprinklers go off!”

Hunk rushed over to a drawer on the far side of the kitchen and threw another towel over to Pidge. 

Lance shuffled out of the way as he passed. “What… what should I do?” he asked helplessly, begging for a final chance to fix this. 

“Stand back,” said Shiro firmly and Lance’s chest tightened, turning to face his leader’s hard gaze.

“No, I can help, I can –"

“No, Lance, stand back!”

A huge gelatinous cloud enveloped his vision. The force of the impact knocked him to the floor and as he wiped away the sticky, slimy substance, he looked up at the source. Shiro was standing on the other side of the counter, pointing a nozzle in their direction. 

“Sorry,” he uttered sheepishly, “I was aiming for the fire.” Lance noticed that Pidge and Hunk were similarly coated in fluorescent green slop.

“Nice one, Shiro!” beamed Hunk all of a sudden, shaking the food goo from his arms.

“Yeah, we should’ve thought of that,” smiled Pidge, removing her glasses and then grimacing at the mess on them.

Lance looked at their heroic leader and then back down at himself. He was wet from the splash of the sink, his sleeve was charred by the fire, and he was decorated with a colourful array of mysterious substances. He looked like a clown. A disastrous one.

“I – I…” Lance couldn’t seem to get any words out. He wanted to apologise.

“Lance, your arm,” gasped Hunk and suddenly all eyes were on him.

Lance jerked his arm up to his chest, holding the blackened sleeve in his wrist. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t. He could feel the burn react to his hot palm pressed against it.

Shiro strode over to him and Lance didn’t dare stop him from pulling his arm out to inspect it.

“It doesn’t look too serious,” he said, studying the angry pink welt raising on the heel of Lance’s palm and spiking up his wrist, “but you should go see Coran.”

Lance nodded, quickly yanking his arm back. “I’ll go after we’ve cleaned up.”

“No, Lance. Go now. It’ll only get worse if you don’t treat it.”

Lance refused to look him in the eye again, afraid of what he’d see there. 

The hour-glass was cracked now, spilling sand across the floor. He couldn’t gather it, no matter how hard he tried. It only slipped away from him, the wind picking it up and carrying it out of reach; out of sight.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, and then hurried from the room. No one followed him. He didn’t go to find Coran.

He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest_pebble: IT IS YA BOI AGAIN, @honest_pebble AND I AM VERY TIRED. Thank you so much to everyone that’s been leaving Kudos and Comments! It means so much!! So, I hope you enjoy the calm, because the storm is coming up... sorry about that.  
> Also, this chapter really made me think of that vine of Elmo. Do you know the one? “*elmo music plays* camera goes past Elmo standing in the rain, then back to him *hello darkness my old friend*”


	6. Chapter 6, YOU FRICKIN FRICKS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't looking good. They're all trying their best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHABDJFBDJFSJDNFONNjanfjndjdkjfjnjkdnfkdfjnjd. It's done. I drove myself crazy over editing this chapter. I've slept like six hours over the last three days. I forgot to eat. The prowling beast of my perfectionism is finally content. Please enjoy.  
> Also, some of the dialogue is from the orignal fic that @honest_pebble wrote god knows how long ago now. None of this would have happened without her, so show her some love!

Another movement passed at the Marmora base. Another movement of wondering and worrying and waiting for news. Every time a call came through from the team, Keith had to work to contain all the emotions scrambling inside of him, but, of course, it was always an update on a mission, or information regarding rebel Galra fleets. It was never anything he was interested in hearing.

The mission to dismantle the fleet heading to Halicon went by without any issues, but it was fought completely in ships. Keith never got a chance to check up on Lance or talk to any of his friends.

During the battle, he found himself staring at the red lion quite often – or at least as often as he could without getting himself killed. Red sped through the fight with grace and ferocity. He roared into each blast that tore from his mouth and crushed ships between his hulking metal fangs. His amber eyes locked onto each target, daring the enemy to fly closer, promising that anyone who did would meet a swift yet painful end.

Keith swallowed. There was something off about the lion. Red had always been viciously passionate in battle, but he was radiating with the same aura of desperation and recklessness that Keith had seen in his current pilot not too long ago. Keith wasn’t sure where it was coming from; whether it was Lance himself or the lion’s reaction to his paladin’s turmoil. Lion and paladin had a closer bond than any other in the universe. When you managed to connect, it was as though your thoughts were one. Perhaps this behaviour was a product of that – the frustrations and anguish of the pilot working in chaotic harmony with the fear-fuelled protectiveness of his lion.

He still couldn’t figure out why Lance was so wound up though. Sure, Lance had yelled at Keith before, but never like that; like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Keith had just wanted to talk to him, but Lance had treated it as if he’d asked to use him for target practice. Why was he being so defensive? Even Hunk was having trouble getting through to him. It was so un-Lance-like to lock himself away like that. He’d never had a problem talking to people before – it was one of the qualities Keith actually admired about him. What had changed?

Keith had started to figure maybe he was just embarrassed. Maybe it was his pride that was keeping him from seeking help. Lance’s ego was so big it often came spilling out of his ears; maybe his most recent screw-ups had knocked him down a few pegs and left him resentful. This was just him being stubborn.

Despite this revelation, Keith couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. How could he not, seeing the way he’d sunk into himself and how different he was from the boy who’d left Earth, the one who’d whooped and cheered his way across the cosmos in anticipation of a new adventure. This pent-up frustration; it had made him bitter, distant, and, most distressingly, dangerously reckless. Keith still saw Galra blades and cracked armour in every shadow and every chip on the wall next to his bunk. He still laid awake at night wondering what trouble that moron could have gotten himself into today. He still feared returning to the Castle of Lions and finding one less paladin there to greet him. 

His heart throbbed.

He really hoped Hunk had some good news for him. He didn’t know how much more of this his nerves could take.

Once the battle was over, Keith saw his opportunity and took it. Team Voltron was to head for Halicon and inform the governing powers that the threat had been neutralised. The Blade of Marmora required a representative to go along while Voltron tried to secure the planet as part of the coalition. Being only half-galra and human in appearance, Keith was often used as a sort of “bridge between two worlds” in these kinds of negotiations in order to reassure the locals who were entirely too used to associating Galra soldiers, such as the Blades, with death and destruction. Kolivan had business on a nearby planet and promised to meet them on Halicon in two quintants. Keith had asked to travel with team Voltron and Kolivan had no reason to keep him, despite his obvious suspicion; Krolia wasn’t the only one who had begun noticing the changes in him, namely how distracted he was of late.

When Keith arrived in the Castle hangar, he told himself that he was going to seek out Hunk first this time; he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. 

The team would have just returned themselves, so were probably on the bridge for the debriefing. He felt a buzz running under his skin at the idea of finally getting some answers. No matter where he was or what he was doing, the questions were always there, like a persistent tapping on his shoulder, but when he turned around to confront the source, the answers dissipated, leaving him empty handed and perpetually ticked off. This not knowing was eating him alive. Every time his thoughts turned to Lance, they turned painful too. He thought of that hint of the old Lance he’d seen shining through on the training deck. He heard the laughter fluttering from his lips and saw the brightness in his eyes. Then, he saw how quickly it had fallen away due to Keith’s thoughtlessness, like a boulder rolling, speeding, charging into a ravine. The question was, how deep was it, and what lay at the bottom?

The doors to the bridge slid open like a curtain, revealing four paladins and their advisor. It took Keith less than a tick to realise who was missing and a fraction of a heartbeat to link that absence to the utterly defeated expressions that had focused in on him.

“Lance?” he managed to whisper over the bile rising in his throat.

Had he missed something? He’d only been talking to Kolivan for a dobosh or two; was that all it took? If Lance was injured, they’d be in the med bay. If they were all here…

His chest ached with denial, holding him in a choked paralysis. He told himself that there was no way; he’d know if Lance was gone. He’d _**feel**_ it. He didn’t know how. He only knew that there was no way someone that significant to him could simply disappear without him even realising. They just couldn’t. He wouldn’t let them. He wouldn’t let _**him**_.

Ticks stretched into doboshes into vargas as Keith stood there, until the spell was broken by two simple words.

“He’s fine,” grumbled Pidge, staring down at the helmet in her hands as if it had betrayed her.

Keith felt his fear melt out of him, but was left with a residual tingling of shock running through his veins, pumped in a frenzy by his flustered heart. He studied their faces again.

“But,” he said uncertainly, “he’s not, is he?” The paladins exchanged a few looks. They all looked so… shaken, like they’d been fast-tracked through a weblem’s digestive system and barely made it out alive. 

Keith stepped forward to join them. “What’s going on?”

Coran’s brow creased in commiseration. “You didn’t see?” 

“See what?” asked Keith, starting to get frustrated by the lack of elaboration.

“We couldn’t form Voltron,” gritted out Allura, as if the phrase left a bad taste in her mouth.

“We all felt it,” Hunk droned in a low voice, eyes fixed darkly on the floor as if trying to scrub it clean with his mind. “Something bad.”

“It was like something crawling up my neck into my hair,” grimaced Pidge, hunching her shoulders and shivering. “It felt like… like my whole arm turned to stone and it was so cold and empty and _**wrong**_ and it just kept spreading.” 

Her voice cracked as she finished and she wrapped her arms around herself, falling silent. She was so pale, Keith realised to his alarm. The glare of her glasses hid her eyes from him, but he could still tell by the way her lip quivered in a hard line that she was struggling to hold back tears.

“I felt it in my heart,” Allura supplemented, pressing her clenched fist into her breast-plate, “and it hurt like a wound – like someone had reached inside me and torn it out of my chest.” Her words shook with anger and something else – something that made her turn away suddenly, eyes closed tight and teeth bared as she pulled in shallow breaths.

“We couldn’t take it anymore,” explained Shiro, looking around at his team sombrely. “We split apart before we could even form.”

Keith fought off a shudder, his eyes still on Allura as his own emotions struggled to organise themselves. “You think it was Lance?” he asked feebly, although he already knew the answer.

“We know it was,” said Hunk, emotionless. 

Keith watched with concern as the paladin lifted his head, eyes set to the wall in a stony glare. His shoulders drew back as he took a deep breath, his face stiff with concentration, but they wavered and fell as each succeeding gasp became shorter and shorter; shallower and more pained. 

Finally, it was too much, and everything came rushing out of him in a sudden, agonised sob, dark lines sliding down his cheeks. 

“I didn’t kn… I should’ve… should’ve…” but he didn’t finish. His helmet clattered to the floor at the same time as Pidge’s and she dove into him, wrapping her arms around his middle as their knees hit the floor and his hands came up to cover his face. She spoke to him too quietly for anyone else to hear what was said. Most of them were too lost in their own grief to pay attention anyway.

Keith looked between each of his friends and tried to control the sharp chills running up and down his arms under his skin. They were so broken. He didn’t want to imagine what it must have felt like to go through that. He didn’t want to imagine what that meant for Lance. It sounded so ghastly… like something out of a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. How could one person feel all that and not just split apart?

Scalding anger swept over him like a flash-flood. How could Lance have let it come to this? Was his pride really so important to him that he would do that to himself? Do that to them?! The team was being literally torn apart and he didn’t even have the courage to show his face and deal with the consequences. He was a coward! A damn coward!

Keith stepped away from the group, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he paced. He couldn’t deal with this anymore! Every time he came back, things were a hundred times worse. Was it his fault? It seemed as though whenever he tried to help, he only ended up ruining everything. First as the black paladin, now with Lance… 

He let out a roar, kicking the protruding doorframe.

“Keith,” said Coran, drawing his attention. He seemed to be the only one even remotely keeping it together right now. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Keith snapped. “How do you fight something like this?”

“You can’t,” said Shiro flatly. “It’s not like any regular battle we’ve faced. You can’t just punch until it goes away.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Keith yelled.

“I don’t know!” Shiro bellowed, his eyes alight with hurt. He stared for a tick, then brought his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.” He took a breath, his fingers spreading to cover his eyes. “I’m failing him.” 

Allura stepped forward now, shaking her head. “No,” she said solemnly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If things have gotten this bad without our noticing, then we’ve all failed him.”

“It’s not over yet,” flared Keith, clenching his fists. “I refuse to accept that.”

“As do we,” retorted Coran obstinately, his face harder than Keith had ever seen it, “isn’t that right, paladins?”

Keith looked over to Hunk and Pidge. The yellow paladin gave one final sniff, wiping his eyes and then fixed them with a look of fierce conviction. 

“I’m not giving up on him. Never. Not in a million, cajillion deca-phoebs.”

“Same here,” glowered Pidge. “we’re helping that idiot, whether he likes it or not.” She dragged a hand across her wet cheek, her glasses hopping over her knuckles and glinting in the light. She pulled them off, staring down at them adamantly.

“I just got one brother back; I don’t wanna lose another.” 

A hunger was growing in the air, borne of anger, fear and desperation. Its talons gripped at them but they would stand their ground until they met their goal; use its strength to bolster their determination. This wasn’t the end. This was only the beginning.

Keith fixed them with a powerful stare. 

“Then what are we gonna do?”

* * *

Only a varga later, Keith found himself outside the training deck once again.

_**Stupid, horrible idea.** _

“He’s not gonna want to talk to me!” Keith had yelled upon hearing Hunk’s suggestion. They wanted him to go it alone. Again.

Hunk and Pidge had somehow managed to relay the events of their kitchen escapade in enough detail to fill Keith with a sense of dread, and yet not enough to give him any more hints as to what was actually going on with Lance. Unfortunately, they’d latched onto the idea that Lance was just really homesick and run with that, which meant it was an entirely wasted venture. 

Keith could have told them it wasn’t homesickness, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Then again, it wouldn’t, having heard what he had.

_**“They already don’t trust me.”** _

And Lance was right. They didn’t; but it had nothing to do with stupid decisions or screw-ups as Lance seemed to think. The truth was, they didn’t trust him with himself anymore. How could they after what they’d felt in their lions? Everyone was petrified, Keith included, and every dobosh that went by, they were all simmering in their distress, wondering what the quiznak they were supposed to do besides lock him in a room where he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself anymore. If Lance had just talked to them instead of pushing them away, none of this would be happening, and Keith, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why the most open and extroverted person he knew was so reluctant to talk about his feelings with the people he loved. How was this any different to any of the many instances of uncomfortable oversharing Lance had thrust upon them since they’d left Earth; since before, even?

Keith groaned in irritation. Back on this again. Every time he got caught in this same loop of confusion he just ended up with a headache and a bad mood. He knew there was no way he was going to make any progress without talking to Lance again; everyone else knew it too. They weren’t too happy with his decision to withhold certain information – Pidge had almost tackled him – but he refused to betray Lance’s trust like that. Sure, Keith had never actually made any kind of promise, but after that battle on the rogue Galra base, Lance had been so worn down, so utterly beaten; Keith couldn’t be just another thing on top of all that to let him down. 

In the end, it had all come down to the fact that, out of all of them, Keith was miraculously the one who seemed to have the best grasp on the situation, and the best chance of getting through to Lance, especially now that he was trying so hard to avoid everyone else.

His friends sent him whispered “good luck”s as they retreated down the corridor. Keith had asked them not to listen in like Hunk had last time. It would feel like he was tricking Lance and he didn’t want that. It had to be just them, at least until he could figure out what to do next. Of course, in order to do that, he would need to actually enter the room first.

He walked in, begging for his heart to stop hammering in his chest. It was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be so worked up about a simple conversation; but it was _**Lance**_. Every time he saw the paladin, every time he thought about him, everything felt so much tighter and things as simple as a handshake ended up being oh so eloquently transformed into something more akin to a punch to the gut.

What was he doing here? He couldn’t do this. What was he even supposed to say?

“Oh. It’s you.”

Keith’s heart leapt and he had the sudden and irrational fear that it had been his erratic heartbeat that had given him away, before he realised that it was probably the _**woosh**_ of the door sliding open. Lance was stood in centre of the room, his hand hovering by his thigh, his bayard beginning to glow around the edge as it did when it was about to dissipate. His dark brow glistened white with sweat under the light and his sallow cheeks were even thinner than before, his skin laying like saran-wrap over bone. The worst thing was his eyes. They were almost black and oozing with distrust.

Keith finally found his voice and managed to speak without quavering. 

“Well, hello to you too,” he said, trying to sound aloof. He leant back against the wall with crossed arms and forced himself to quit avoiding Lance’s gaze. The paladin looked like he was deciding whether or not to bolt, regarding him suspiciously, eyes darting over Keith’s body like laser-pointers. He lowered his weapon so that it ceased glowing, and, thankfully, made no further move to put it away. 

“What are you doing here, Keith?” 

“I…” Why was Keith here? He couldn’t just say to talk; Lance would be out the door in a second. 

“I wanted to see you,” he decided, meeting Lance’s eyes. Not a lie. He had wanted to see him, although this wasn’t the version he’d really wanted. He thought back to those few short minutes of sparring when Lance had peered up at him with ocean-blue eyes and a dazzlingly charming grin, hair curling under those sharp cheekbones and getting caught in his dark lashes as he spun into action. He wondered if even back then, Lance had been feeling all those things the paladins had talked about earlier. The idea of it made him feel sick.

Something twitched in Lance’s face. He was… surprised? Keith guessed that made sense – if it had been anyone else that had shouted at him like that, Keith probably would have stayed away. But this was Lance. Wonderful, lovable, miserable Lance.

“I wanted to say sorry,” he blurted suddenly. “I was… kind of rude last time I saw you. I didn’t want to offend you, I’m just… not very good with words. But I guess you knew that.”

Lance’s brow drew lower, but he eventually gave a small, disgruntled nod of acceptance, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Forget about it?” Keith prompted and Lance nodded again. 

And that was that. It was probably the only time things had ever gone so smoothly between them, but Keith was thankful for it. He could only hope the next part came as easily. 

He noticed Lance glancing down at his bayard like it had insulted him and chanced a smile.

“Show me what you got, then,” he challenged, relaxing considerably now that the tension had given way.

Lance gave Keith a sharp look as if offended, but said nothing, his face still set in hard lines. Then, he turned away, calling for a new training sequence to be initiated. Lance never backed down from a challenge. It was one of the things they had in common.

Lance shifted carefully as he readjusted his position. A panel in the floor slid open and a swarm of drones emptied from the darkness, quickly finding their places in a staggered circle around the red paladin. He took a shaky breath and shot a glance back at Keith. They locked eyes for a moment before Lance’s flicked back over to the closest drones, his face radiating determination. 

The drones began attacking and Lance moved like he’d been doing this since birth. Keith was impressed, although he hadn’t expected not to be. Lance’s sword-fighting style was like an extension of himself. Though marred by that ever-present frenzy of distress, Keith could still see beneath each stroke, the precision of a sharp-shooter; the strength of his perseverance; the beauty of his wit. Every lunge and slice just shone with something so _**Lance**_ , and it never failed to take Keith’s breath away. 

Lance raised his sword and swung it around in a circle, slashing straight through three drones all at once, in the exact moment they formed a row. He ducked beneath a round of shots, sliding forward on his knees and then came up behind one of the floating orbs, slicing it in half like a block of butter. Keith saw droplets fly out from him like a halo as the paladin spun and began to look closer at his face and his stance. He could see clear signs of exhaustion, such as the tremble in his legs as he got to his feet and the slightly manic hitch in each ragged breath. Lance had come straight from a battle into training without a moment’s rest or, according to the others, a bite to eat in God knows how long. When Lance narrowly avoided a stray laser, Keith began to wonder if he should intervene. He was in his armour but he could still get hurt.

He saw, again, that Galra blade coming down in a dreadful arc, splintering the arm-plate like egg-shells, hot blood pouring like sticky yoke between the cracks, running to the floor. The armour was smooth now; mended or replaced, Keith didn’t know. It was tinged pink in his vision, but Keith wasn’t sure if that was merely his imagination playing tricks on him, drudging up old memories for him to feel anew.

Suddenly, there was a sharp yelp and Keith thought for a second that it was in his head, his attention wrapped up in remembering. He fell back into reality as Lance toppled over, and he kept falling as he watched the paladin land on the floor with a loud thud. 

Keith’s body paid no mind to the weight in his gut and acted fast, his chest jolting with panic as he drew his own blade and leapt in front of Lance to protect him from further attacks. The blasts from the drones bounced off the luxite as Keith advanced and he swiftly put an end to the tiny enemies, realising that they were actually the last ones. 

It took Keith a moment to gather himself after that – _**it’s only a training simulation, you idiot, calm down**_ – but then he twisted around and saw that Lance was still sitting on the floor. He was looking up at Keith with a slight crease of irritation in his brow, his mouth hanging open in a small oval as he panted.

Keith put his hand out to help him up, ignoring the residual adrenaline still throbbing in his veins. “You ok?”

Lance’s cheeks flushed a deep rosy colour and he smacked Keith’s hand away, crossing his arms and glaring towards the door. “Show off,” he muttered.

“What?” Keith tilted his head, looking down at him in confusion.

“You could have just told the ship to shut off the programme,” Lance spat, “but instead you had to jump in and show me up.”

Keith looked at the paladin in disbelief. 

“Show you up? There’s no one here!” There was that infuriating pride, rearing its ugly head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lance grumbled in annoyance. He pulled his legs in to his chest and propped his head up on top of his arms. “Just - It’s not exactly like a real battle if you’re here to fix my screw ups.”

Keith’s irritation drained out of him all at once. Something in Lance’s tone didn’t match up with Keith’s assumptions. He would have said he sounded crushed if it wasn’t for the fact he’d already sounded so deflated to begin with. 

He studied the paladin, and now that he was closer, he could make out the pink puffiness of his eyes; could see that they were bloodshot. 

He’d been crying. Of course, he had. It would be a mistake to think Lance was feeling any better about the whole Voltron issue than the rest of the team. He dreaded to think Lance was still stuck in that same feeling that had rendered the other paladins pale and speechless; but what was he supposed to do? Keith sucked at comforting people.

“Well,” he attempted, uncertain, “even if it isn’t me, there’s always going to be someone to fix them.” Oh my _**God**_ , that came out bad. “I mean,” he scrambled, trying to ignore his pulse now racing in his ears, “the others will be with you. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

Lance hmphed derisively. “Pretty sure they don’t want to spend all their time babysitting me.” His eyes fell to the floor, but his vision rested somewhere far away.

“It’s not babysitting,” replied Keith more forcefully, trying to snap him out of whatever funk he was clearly falling back into, “it’s called team-work.”

Lance looked up at him then, and Keith wondered if it hurt to hold a scowl for so long.

“A chain’s only as strong as its weakest link.”

Icy recognition pierced Keith’s gut at those words. He remembered something Lance had said to him some phoebs ago; long enough ago that it had been buried beneath all of his recent anxieties. It shocked him as much now as it had back then.

_**“Maybe the best thing I can do for the team is step aside.”** _

Of course, that’s where his mind would go after a disaster like this. Keith already knew how Lance felt about himself in comparison to the other paladins. Lance had told him. Now, he was beating himself up over something that wasn’t even really his fault. Lance couldn’t help how he felt. He couldn’t help how it was affecting him. He couldn’t help how it was affecting the team.

Keith felt a pang of pity for the red paladin but remained frozen as Lance glowered his way. He watched the bright azure of obstinance slowly fade from his eyes and die out completely as he bowed his head again. He sat in the middle of the training-room, a teetering pillar of rock, all alone in the centre of a vast grey sea. Keith was afraid to touch him; he was already so worn away. He might just crumble beneath the waves at the slightest poke. 

Keith lowered himself to the floor, resting an arm on his raised knee and fixing his gaze on the paladin. Lance shifted away ever so slightly, but made no other objection to his presence.

“Is that what you think?” said Keith quietly.

“You know what I think,” snipped Lance, and Keith’s eyes widened a tad. It seemed, for once, their thoughts were in the same place. It would have been a relief if Keith wasn’t so heartbroken on his behalf.

“And you know what my answer was,” Keith pushed, his stare unyielding despite the paladin’s refusal to make eye contact.

Lance pulled his legs in tighter. “I never asked for an answer.”

Keith swallowed thickly, deciding to take a risk. 

“But you wanted one.”

Lance’s head snapped up and he looked at Keith with such fire that it almost burned.

“Well, I don’t need one now!”

His voice boomed in the openness of the training deck and Keith felt the words vibrating in his chest. He looked at Lance, wondering whether he should just get up and leave, deciding that this was a waste of time and that being here was only making Lance feel worse. But he couldn’t. Behind that fire he saw something else – something small and shaking and dying. 

It didn’t matter what had been going on with Lance in the last few movements. Right now, he needed someone to talk to. It didn’t even matter what it was about. The others had each other to get them through this trauma, but Lance was all alone. He was walking a tightrope with no supports. Keith couldn’t let him fall.

So, he nodded. 

“Okay.”

Even after he’d turned his eyes away, he could feel Lance’s glare on him. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Keith resolved to let the next step be Lance’s to take, whatever it was going to be. 

“Dude,” he said after a while, “you smell like an old gym sock.”

Keith blinked in surprise and not so subtly tried to take a sniff of his armpit. Lance was right. He absolutely reeked.

He felt his ears burning. “Sorry. I came straight from the mission.” He tugged at the collar of his Marmora uniform to illustrate his point. “There’s no way you smell any better, though.”

Lance wrinkled his nose. “Guess we could both use a shower.” He didn’t smile.

The words reminded Keith of what Hunk had said earlier. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

He stretched his arms out and leant back on his hands. “Yeah, I think I need a good, _**long**_ shower.”

Lance’s knees sank away from his chest as he eyed him suspiciously. “O…kay… Good for you?”

“It’s a good place to think,” he prompted.

Lance raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah,” he said doubtfully, “it is…”

Panic gripped Keith as he realised he didn’t know where to go from there.

_**Quick, Keith, think!** _

“Uh, b-but I always end up thinking about the weirdest things,” he rambled, less sure of himself, “like whether I left the stove on.”

“What?” Lance’s distrust melted away, revealing a look of bewilderment.

“At home,” Keith quickly continued. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll go back to earth and find out my whole place is just gone or something.” He chuckled lightly as he finished, but noticed the strange expression on his friend’s face.

“Yeah,” breathed Lance, picking at the tips of his gloves. “I get what you mean. I wonder how much has changed since we left, y’know?”

“Is that what you think about in the shower?” 

Lance’s eyes went wide and he even rocked away from Keith a little, his face blaring alarm like a siren. “What the quiznak, man?! You can’t just ask a question like that!”

Keith was hit by a wave of crushing realisation. “Oh, right,” he stammered. “Yeah, I guess that was kind of weird.” He avoided eye contact, trying not to drown in his embarrassment, but he couldn’t refuse that little prodding at the back of his head telling him to push it a little further. “So, is it?”

Lance gawked at him in exasperation. “I don’t know, man! I mean, I guess!” He threw his arms up with a sigh before settling them behind him, leaning into his hands just as Keith had done.

Keith waited and watched as a glassiness slowly slipped over his eyes, giving him a far-away look. 

“I mostly think about the rain,” Lance said, although Keith wasn’t entirely sure he had intended to.

“The rain?”

“Yeah,” he faltered, unsure. “I – I miss it.”

“How come?”

He shrugged, just a small bump of his shoulders. “There are other planets that have rain, but it's not the same as Earth. It looks different, or feels different, or smells different; some places it's even dangerous, so I can't get near it or I'll… I dunno… get burnt by acid or something."

Keith wrinkled his brow. “Aren’t you from the beach? I thought you would hate the rain because you’d be trapped inside all day.”

Lance shook his head, sitting forward again. “It’s not like that. The rain is like… clean, y’know? Like, after it’s rained, everything is just washed away and… it’s all new.” Keith looked at him curiously, but he didn’t finish there.

“And it covers everything up,” Lance continued, thumb rubbing gently but insistently over the fabric of his palm. “You don’t think about anything else when it’s raining. It drowns everything out.”

Keith wasn’t sure if he should pry any further, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Like what?” 

Lance watched him for a short moment, looking reluctant, and Keith started to think maybe he should change the subject again, but then Lance began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"When I was younger, my parents used to fight a lot. It was always better when it rained, because I could go sit in the shed – it had this corrugated iron roof that was super loud when the water hit it and you couldn’t hear anything else.”

“So, that’s why you miss it?” Keith was struggling to wrap his head around Lance’s thinking. He’d spent so much time trying to do that lately that words and gestures had morphed into a complicated form of code for which no one seemed to have the key.

Lance’s face scrunched up and he shook his head. “Not really,” he murmured. “I think it’s more because when I was young, it made me feel better. I used to think that if the sky cried, I could cry too.” He hesitated, his cheeks turning red and his gaze flickering towards Keith as if to check he wasn’t laughing. “Yeah, it's kinda stupid, but it's something I thought as a kid. It made me feel so... not alone, I guess? I felt surrounded by- something; something that knew how I felt, in a way, because the sky and the rain spread across the whole world, and it had probably seen other people that were in a situation like me. I guess I thought maybe it understood me; like, it came because it knew I needed it.” 

He glanced at Keith for a second before whipping his head back around in the other direction, his neck slowly retreating behind the raised collar of his armour. 

“Whatever. Like I said; it’s stupid.”

Keith was watching him intently, his own thoughts drifting into nostalgia. “I don’t think it’s _**that**_ stupid,” he countered.

“You don’t?” Lance asked, peeking back around at him in surprise.

Keith shook his head. “Me and my dad used to watch the stars together and he always told me somewhere out there, my mom was looking down on me and protecting me. It used to make me feel better too.” He let out a soft laugh. “I guess mine was more literal than yours though, huh?”

Neither of them spoke for a little while. Then, Lance’s voice came through, almost a whisper.

“Do you ever miss it?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What, stargazing?” 

“No!” Lance scoffed, seeing Keith’s confusion – they were in space after all. “I mean all the other stuff. Feeling connected to something – someone – like it was protecting you, even though you couldn’t see it - them.”

Keith considered that for a moment. “No,” he answered, “because now I’ve got the real thing.”

Lance’s face sank. “Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.”

“No, not Kro- not my mom,” he burst in exasperation. “I meant you guys.” Lance regarded him with shock. “I don’t feel like I need some invisible protection anymore because I have all these real people looking out for me. But, I guess…” He trailed off into his own head, but when he caught a glimmer of curiosity in Lance’s eyes – the first sign of interest he’d seen from him since this conversation began – he was convinced to keep going.

“I guess things have been a bit different since I stepped down as black paladin,” he admitted. “After I hadn’t seen you guys in a while, it wasn’t so easy to remember that feeling, but… I don’t think that means that connection is completely gone.” 

Keith glanced over at the paladin but he had already turned his gaze back to the floor, his frown thoughtful. 

Keith thought back to the dinner when he’d properly spoken to Lance for the first time since he’d left. It was after the first emo joke had parted his lips that Keith had begun to feel a semblance of that old warmth again, but things had quickly gone South; so far South that that warmth was like a spectre in his rear-view mirror. He’d started to doubt that he’d ever felt it at all.

Where was Lance in all this? Keith wondered if Lance had lost sight of that feeling of closeness in the same way that Keith had in those comfortless nights at the Marmora base?

"Do you miss that feeling?” he asked curiously. 

The paladin’s gloom deepened. “I- I don’t know. Sometimes, I just feel… I don’t know.” He clipped his words and waved a hand as if to brush it off, but Keith wasn’t ready to drop it. He didn’t think Lance really wanted to either.

“What?” 

He hadn’t realised how close they’d gotten. His hand was almost brushing Lance’s leg, but neither of them moved away.

Lance sighed and Keith could feel the air shift, brushing the tiny hairs on his face. 

“Lonely.” 

A slow breath leaked from Keith, one that he didn’t know he was holding. He didn’t understand. 

“If you’ve been feeling lonely, why have you been spending so much time in here by yourself?” 

Something changed then. Keith didn’t know what had happened, but Lance went strangely stiff all of a sudden. Keith felt the space between them open up like a black hole, sucking in anything that existed between them in those few moments of intimacy.

“You don’t get it. I thou…” Lance screwed his face up in anger, shuffling to put a few more inches between them. “I’m just training. Is there a problem with that?” he challenged.

“No, but...” Keith didn’t know what to say. He was losing him again. “You’re always by yourself, Lance.” He wanted to reach out and touch him; just to put a hand on his shoulder and ground him in the way Shiro always did for him, but Lance was poised for an attack now, baring his teeth and shooting daggers from his icy eyes.

“How would you know?” he snapped. “You’re not even around.” Keith wasn’t sure what to say to that. Why did it feel like an accusation? 

“I guess you’re right.” He frowned at his armour, dark and scuffed and so different to that which Lance wore.

“The others put you up to this, didn’t they?”

Keith’s hands balled into fists, a defensive reflex. “No,” he murmured.

Lance rolled his eyes in irritation. “Don’t lie to me, dude. They’ve been following me around like shadows since you left and now, you’re talking like you know what’s going on around here; like you aren’t just picking facts out from the paladin hot gossip! You’re all in cahoots!” He raised his arms in the air dramatically.

“Cahoots?”

“Yes, Keith, cahoots! I get that you guys are all buddy-buddy, and you have a “connection” or whatever, but can you not talk about me behind my back?”

Keith shot him a look of offence. “We’re not –"

“Oh, suuuuure, you’re not.”

Keith felt anger bubbling up inside him and before he could help it, the same old words were frothing from his mouth. “What is your problem?! Why do you automatically assume everyone’s out to get you?!”

“It’s not like that!” Lance exclaimed, crossing his arms firmly. “It’s just none of your business! Everyone just needs to stop worrying about me. It’s suffocating.”

“Oh, so you’d prefer if we left you to wallow in self-pity, that’s it?”

“I am not –" Lance shot to his feet and stomped in a small circle as he searched for his words. He scrunched up his face in frustration. 

“You know, if you were supposed to cheer me up or something, you’re not doing a very good job!”

Keith also got up and stepped into Lance’s path, keeping him from pacing any further. “This is way beyond me cheering you up, Lance, and you know it. I’m here to find out why you’re skipping meals and taking day-long showers and avoiding every other person in sight. Don’t think they haven’t noticed. You’re not sly, Lance.”

“I’m not trying to be sly, I’m trying to stay out of their way!” Lance squeezed his eyes between his thumb and forefinger and let out a groan of anger.

Keith threw his hands out in bewilderment. “But _**why**_? Why won’t you just talk to them? What have they done wrong?”

The heat rising between them dropped to frigid temperatures and Keith could have sworn Lance went a shade paler in that moment. 

“What? They - they haven’t done anything. Is… is that what they think?”

“Well, kind of, yeah. Hunk thinks you’re starving yourself just so that you won’t have to speak to them. Allura keeps trying to figure out what she’s said that might have offended you. I mean, what were they supposed to think when you just stopped talking to them, Lance? When you stopped showing up anywhere you knew they’d be?”

Lance took a few steps back, gripping his arms over his stomach. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think they’d care.”

“And why the Hell would you think that?” Keith said incredulously, his heart sinking at the paladin’s obvious heart-break.

“They’re always doing their own thing, but as soon as I show up… It just makes me feel so…” He broke off with a grunt of frustration, dragging his fingers through his messy hair. “Things are just better for everyone this way, but they keep acting like it’s strange; like we haven’t been drifting apart for a long time anyway.”

Keith moved to take a step forward. “Is that what this is about then?”

Lance’s eyes burned wildly and he threw his arms out in indignation. “Stop trying to figure me out! This is about nothing! There’s nothing for anything to be about! Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”

"Maybe because you're still acting weird? You're still acting like there's nothing wrong with you; like you're absolutely fine! Can't you just admit that you're not fine?!" 

Lance let out a cruel laugh; one sharp syllable. “Well, you know what, Keith? I’m not fine. You know why I’m not fine? Because stupid mullet-headed emos keep sticking their abnormally pointy noses in where they don’t belong!”

Keith’s shoulders bunched and he gritted his teeth. The words came before he could even think to stop them. “Maybe if a certain obnoxious, pig-headed pilot would swallow his pride and let his friends help him, I wouldn’t have to!”

For a second, Keith was expecting a punch to the face, but instead Lance turned on his heel and stormed off towards the door. 

“Screw you.”

Keith found himself unable to move, as if his soles had melted into the floor from the primal heat circulating his body. He felt it begin to drain out as the red paladin grew smaller and smaller. He had to say something.

"Lance!” The paladin faltered for a second on hearing his name and Keith took his last chance to try and get through to him. “Keeping all of this stuff bottled up isn't doing yourself any favours! You’re just going to wear yourself out and then you’re going to break. Trust me; I’ve been there.” 

"Yeah well…” Keith saw the way he clenched his fists, the way his shoulders shook. His voice dripped with a vicious breed of sarcasm. “It's a good thing I'm not a mess like you. No bottles in sight.”

Keith watched him go, and then stood there for a few seconds longer, broiling in shame and humiliation.

He had pushed too hard. He’d ruined everything. There was no way Lance would talk to him again now. Keith had become a part of the rolling tides hammering against him, only serving to wear the paladin down further. Just another enemy. Another source of pain. 

He didn’t know what to do. Everything was falling apart so much faster than he could have imagined. For a while, he’d thought maybe if he reached out far enough, at just the right angle, he’d be able to feel Lance’s fingertips brush against his own. He thought he could grab onto him and pull him out from whatever pit he was falling into. Now, he realised that that was just wishful thinking. Lance didn’t want his help. He wasn’t even reaching out anymore. He had resolved to fall into the darkness. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest_pebble: Hey guys! @honest_pebble is here with a slightly more serious note than my previous ones!   
> This chapter is actually really special to me because there’s a few parts that were in the original fic for this, which was a one-shot (obviously that changed oh boy) and the whole conversation about rain is really special to me because I’ve always loved it and I kind of self projected a bit when writing about it. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!   
> (Also @floralfatality has been editing like crazy for this chapter because she’s insane so please leave feedback for her!)


	7. Chapter 7, My Brethren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna be straight up with you, bro; this chapter is heavy af. Please check the trigger warnings because we love you all and we want you all to be safe.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, suicidal thoughts (sort of subtle, but it's there)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Hi guys, I just wanna say thank you again for all the comments - they make not just my day, but my entire week/month/year tbh.   
> As I've already mentioned in the summary, this chapter is quite a heavy one and please check the trigger warnings above. We try our best to represent mental health issues as accurately as we can but it's purely based on our own experiences so we're sorry if you don't agree with the representation.   
> I also want to say sorry? for how dark?? this chapter is??? I promise this is as bad as it will get in terms of delving into Lance's mental state. I promise it gets better from here.  
> Despite all this, I still really like this chapter and there's one bit that makes me laugh out loud every time I read it, so I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading!
> 
> (This author's note is a mess like me, soz)
> 
> honest_pebble: Hey so it’s @honesty_pebble , back once again! Sorry this chapter is up later than usual, @floralfatality has been stressing about it all day, please just save her. Anyway, we worked really hard on this (especially her with her constant ‘NO IT MUST BE EDITED’) so please leave nice comments! I know this chapter is kind of crazy and might break you, but please be gentle with us, I promise we will make it up! Anyway, as she said, there’s a few trigger warnings so please just take care! I love you all so much!!  
> P.S. "AW, HE NEEDS SOME MILK!!!"

Lance huddled himself in the corner of the shower, knees drawn to his chest and eyes fixed wide and unseeing on the far wall. The hand clamped around his heart only squeezed tighter with each breath he tried to drag in and the roar of the torrent of water hitting the tiles did nothing to drown out the terrified shouting inside his head. Instead, he felt it all around him like a scream, making every hair on his body stand on end and every pore breathe and ache with unbridled fear.

It was all his fault. He’d fumbled with the broken pieces of his mistakes and shattered them into a million more. It was too much. He couldn’t fix it. He’d never be able to… to…

Black spots danced around his vision and he bit back a sob. He had to calm down. Things would only get worse if his team-mates came to check on him and found him passed out on the shower floor. He couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t hurt them any more than he already had. He never seemed to stop hurting them, even when he’d promised himself, never again.

It took a solid twenty doboshes before his breaths finally evened out. He’d brought himself down from enough panic attacks in the last few quintants that the exhaustion was no longer a surprise. He let his head fall back against the wall and tried to focus on the white noise of the still-running water as he let himself cry it out.

He’d messed up. He’d messed up so damn much.

_**Dios**_ , when had things gotten this bad? It was like a tsunami swelling somewhere way past the horizon. He hadn’t seen it coming until the darkness crept over his back and left him standing in the icy shadow of dread. He was paralysed by its inevitability. There was nowhere he could run; nowhere he wouldn’t feel the cold waves of reality finally snatch away his last few frantic breaths. 

They blamed themselves. That’s what Keith had said. This whole time, he’d been trying to stay away to spare his friends the distress of seeing the state he was in, to spare them the hassle of dealing with his screw-ups; but instead, they’d been blaming themselves for the mess he’d gotten himself into. _**Why?**_ Why would they think any of this was their fault? How couldn’t they see that he was the problem? He was so clearly the problem.

His eyes caught on the scars littered across his body and he grimaced. The old, naïve Lance probably would have enjoyed showing them off, but now... now when he saw them, he felt disgusted with himself. Each cut and bruise was a reminder - a tally – of all the mistakes he’d made. He often speculated on how many the others had. Were they just as battered and broken? If they were, they never let on. He just wasn’t as strong. He had enough evidence to know that now. 

He felt pathetic. He couldn't let anyone see him like this, especially Keith. He had been right all along; there _**was**_ something wrong with Lance. He had gotten so caught up in trying to make things up to his team that he’d ended up neglecting them to the point that they couldn’t even see that this was all for them. Keith had tried to warn him, but Lance would never listen. 

The ex-paladin would still be lurking around the castle right now and Lance couldn’t risk facing him again. He didn’t have the strength anymore.

He wanted to be angry at Keith. Anything was better than this… this pain. It was so stupid. He felt like he’d been betrayed, but it wasn’t even Keith’s fault. He was just a messenger; a willing tool to his friends’ investigations. Of course, Keith had helped them when they’d asked. It wasn’t Keith’s fault that Lance was so desperate. 

He’d gotten his expectations up, allowed himself to think for a moment that Keith might actually be there because he finally understood, or because he _**wanted**_ to understand. But no. Lance had been gullible, falling for his caring act. Keith didn’t get it. None of them did. None of it had mattered to them as much as it had to him. This was something Lance needed to deal with on his own. Just like everything else. He’d known that for a while now.

Then why was it so _**damn**_ hard?

Every time he saw that face, saw the pure intent in Keith’s deep gaze, Lance’s entire torso filled up with fluttering, flapping insects. He couldn’t tell if they were butterflies or hornets; whether they were a reassurance to confide in a friend, or a warning to get away as fast as possible. He didn’t know; he didn’t even trust his own body anymore. It had tricked him too many times. Just like Keith.

_**“Things will work themselves out.”** _

Sure; ‘cus things were oh so fantastic now. Maybe Keith should’ve been the one to “leave the math to Pidge”. He had ended up at the same conclusion as Lance, except Lance was here and Keith was… somewhere. Everywhere. Anywhere not here.

Keith was here now though. _**Why**_ was he here now? He kept showing up. Kept bugging Lance. He’d swoop in all soft smiles and tight jumpsuit and try to worm his way into Lance’s head. The worst part was that it was working. He was so full of holes now; caverns from which his inner most thoughts and feelings spilled like rancid sap. He _**hated**_ it, because talking to Keith always made him feel so much better, like maybe things really _**would**_ work themselves out; that is, right up until the point where Keith ruined everything. Because Keith didn’t understand. Of course, he didn’t understand. Keith didn’t care. Lance kept telling himself this, hoping that somehow, he would finally get it through his thick skull. 

Nevertheless, Keith always succeeded in pulling something more out of him every time he visited and Lance always felt a little bit colder; a little bit more… nothing. He was taking everything from him, mining out chunks of information and tossing them aside like debris. It made Lance wonder if maybe Keith was right. Maybe there really was nothing of value in there, and all of this pain was for nothing. Maybe he should just stop trying. 

Lance slammed a fist against the wall and let out a grunt as he got to his feet. His ankle was sprained, definitely. Trust Keith to leave as much damage in his wake as possible and not even realise. It’s what he always did. Just like that tsunami, Keith came crashing through, unconcerned about what kind of wreckage he left behind. 

_**Fuck**_ , he hated that Keith could make him feel this way. He _**hated**_ that he could so easily spark in him the timid light of hope and then just as quickly snuff it out so that things looked darker than they ever were before. He _**hated**_ that Keith had so much power over him even after all this time, and that the others had caught onto it, that they were trying to use it against him; use Keith against him. But no matter what, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hate Keith. 

_**Why**_ couldn’t he hate Keith? Things would be so much easier if he did. Maybe then, he wouldn’t think about him every tick of every quintant. He wouldn’t think about all the things he’d done and how little they mattered to Keith. Lance was hurting; hurting _**so much**_ , and he just wanted it to stop.

His body didn’t get the memo. 

Lance stood braced against the wall for a few more doboshes, letting the water pour over him and willing it to wash away the aching of his muscles and the prickling anxiety under his skin. He thought about his friends and how disappointed they’d be. He bet Keith was tattling on him right now, telling his team-mates about how weak and fragile and _**lonely**_ he was.   
_**God**_ , he was so stupid. He couldn’t keep falling for this. He knew they just wanted to help, but they couldn’t. Lance thought maybe they were starting to realise that too. 

He hesitantly recalled those cursed looks of pity that followed him around everywhere and how they made his stomach squirm every time they landed on him. He didn’t deserve it; that love he could see glowing in the back of each stare. He knew that everything his friends were doing was out of love, however misguided, and that was what killed him the most. He was hurting them, and they still wanted to help him. And despite all his doubts and insecurities, a small part of him still wanted to be helped. 

He wanted out. He was so sick of this life and he wanted it all to go back to how it had been before. That had always been his goal. When had he lost sight of that? It was all a blur, and the only thing that shone through was that sickeningly sweet, unfaltering love. That was why he couldn’t let them see any more of the cracks in his armour, why he couldn’t let them see how deeply they’d spread to his skin; because, as soon as they saw how broken he was… well… who could love something like that? 

Panic flooded throughout his body in one horrified pump of his heart. He couldn’t lose that love. It was the only thing that had kept him going all this time. Without it, what would he be? He’d be no better than Zarkon; an empty husk masquerading as a warrior, as someone to be respected. Hadn’t Zarkon started out the same way as Lance? He’d only wanted to save someone he’d loved; to fix the mistake that had ended up hurting her so much. What if he ended up the same way?

He felt bile rising in his throat. He’d never let it get that far. He couldn’t even consider it. He could still pull back from this. He had to…

But how? He’d known his last hope for redemption had disappeared the moment those plates had hit the water. No one offered him more than a side-glance these days and when they did, all he saw was that _**pity**_. 

Lance’s eyes stung as he fought another tremor. He was so _**scared**_. He could see it in their eyes. They knew how bad it had gotten. He’d sunk too far; fulfilled whatever usefulness he’d ever had. They were just waiting for an excuse to replace him. He wasn’t capable of being a paladin anymore; now, he was just a burden, syphoning the team’s attention, distracting them from what was important. They couldn’t even form Voltron anymore.

He knew it was his fault. He’d felt it. All those feelings of disgust and contempt closing in around him like a straightjacket; clutching and clawing and clasping onto his arms, his chest, his skull. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t shake them. Unable to breathe, unable to think, the emptiness inside him growing until it pressed up against the walls of his consciousness. He was being pushed and pulled on all sides and for a moment, he’d felt for sure he’d break apart, like the pressure would build so much he’d just split apart into a million tiny fragments, scattered throughout the universe with no hope of retrieval.

Then, it had all just stopped. 

The pressure was gone and all too suddenly he was here again, scrambling to gather his wits enough to take a breath. But they’d failed to form Voltron. The click of the communication line re-opening had made his heart leap with terror, but before any words could come through, the enemy was on their tails again.

He wondered now – not for the first time – what would happen if he did disappear. It would be quiet. Actually, it would be nothing; but is that what he wanted? The scariest thing, the thing that had him gasping in the night as he laid across the tangled sheets, unable to grasp the fleeing tendrils of sleep, was that in those frequent moments of wondering, he wasn’t sure how confidently he could say no anymore.

A quivering breath filtered between his lips and he bit them shut. He couldn’t start crying again. He was so close to breaking completely, and as stupid as it sounded, he couldn’t deal with any change right now. He just needed to float here for a little while longer, the water pooling around his feet, the shadows curling over his head. He didn’t want to think about what would happen once everything started moving again; where that would leave him. He wasn’t ready for it to be the end.

* * *

After a quick trip to the medical-bay, Lance had found there was really only one place he could go. His demons listened to nothing but the clash of a sword or the roar of a blaster. They had no patience for the silence of his room. He could only pray that Keith had enough sense to leave him the fuck alone this time. If not, well; that was why they’d invented warning shots.

The gladiator caught him off guard, pushing him to the ground with a loud thud. He felt a jolt of electricity run through his body, ripping up his spine as the machine jabbed its staff into his stomach. He hated that feeling; like, for a split second, his heart had stopped and he couldn’t breathe. He hoped, as always, that it would be the last time, but it never was.

"Stop training sequence," he groaned, spreading his arms and legs out like a starfish, letting his head fall back a little too heavily onto the tiles as he panted up at the arched ceiling. The gladiator disappeared in a flurry of pixels like an enemy in a videogame, and Lance felt the familiar complaints of his injuries begin to settle in as his adrenaline drained into the floor. 

He was distracted from the creeping in of his regular thoughts by the _**hiss**_ of the door sliding open behind him and he craned his head backwards with dazed curiosity. When he saw who it was, he immediately stiffened and bolted upright, hiding a wince as he scrambled to his feet.

“Oh, hey, Shiro,” he stuttered, fumbling to put away his bayard. His nerves prickled like pins and needles in his chest as they always did around the leader, but after what happened with Voltron, they felt more like maces and daggers, turning his insides to slurry. 

“Sorry,” he breathed hurriedly, “I - I’ll just get out of your way.” 

“No,” Shiro said quickly, his voice booming so loudly in the empty space that Lance could feel it vibrating in his ears, stopping him in his tracks as he made for the door. “Please, stay,” he continued more gently, a smile growing across his face as Lance glanced around, his heart galloping a mile a minute. “I was actually hoping maybe you’d want to spar with me.” 

Lance’s stomach twisted, the maces and daggers burrowing a little deeper. He couldn’t fight Shiro. Even ignoring the fact that the mere idea of looking the man in the eye after what had happened earlier made him want to swallow himself in shame, Lance could only imagine Shiro’s disapproval growing at the sight of Lance sprawled across the floor in defeat. If he couldn’t hold his own against Keith, he had no chance of beating Shiro. 

"Uh... I'm okay, thanks. I'm kind of drained from the gladiator." He laughed a little but it came out sounding weak and robotic. Shiro’s face twitched with an expression, but it only lasted a second. Lance had seen it though; it was _**that**_ look.

“You’ve been working hard recently,” stated Shiro, his eyes roaming over Lance in a way that made the paladin feel like he was being judged. He forced himself to straighten up, square his shoulders more – to somehow look less meagre – and gave a short nod, eyes darting back towards the door.

“Yeah, just working on my stance and stuff.”

“You know,” said Shiro pointedly, “there is such a thing as working _**too**_ hard. Wouldn’t you rather be playing video games or something instead of grinding the days away with just the gladiator for company?” There was a humour in his tone, but also the rough hint of nerves that told Lance that everything Keith had said – everything about them questioning their own involvement in all of this – was true. 

“It’s not that bad,” Lance said, trying for a reassuring smile. He couldn’t let on how tired he was. He couldn’t show how much pain he was in. Shiro had enough problems without having to worry about Lance’s too. He didn’t need any more reasons to be disappointed with him, or to think Lance should be benched from the team. He could still fight. He _**would**_ still fight.

He shouldn’t have rejected the sparring. It could have been his chance to show how much he still wanted this; how much he needed this. Maybe he couldn’t form Voltron anymore but he would do anything for his team, no matter the consequences. He just couldn’t lose them. He’d do anything not to be left behind.

“I can show you what I’ve been working on!” Lance blurted, a manic hitch in his tone. “I know I said I was tired, but I can-"

_**¡Idiota!**_ he thought, seeing the way the leader’s face dropped. _**¡¿No puedes mantener la boca cerrada?!**_

“No, it’s okay,” said Shiro, holding his hands up calmingly. He was smiling again but it didn’t reach his eyes. Lance caught them running quickly over his armour again, no doubt taking stock of all the scuffs and dents.

“Lance,” he almost sighed, gaze finally falling to the floor as he crossed his arms. 

_**Oh God, here it comes,**_ thought Lance, all of his blood abruptly racing to his feet and making him feel faint. He began to croak the leaders name, to beg him not to take this from him, but he barely got past the first syllable before Shiro was speaking over him.

“We need to talk. About your… training.” 

Lance’s brows shot up in surprise, but his relief hardened into something cold and heavy in the bottom of his stomach. Coran had led him down this path enough times for him to know exactly where this conversation was headed. 

“What’s the big deal?” he supplied, trying to keep things light. He was gripping his bayard so hard that his already bruised knuckles were crying out for relief. “I would have thought, as the leader, you’d want us to work hard.”

“Of course I do, but…” Shiro seemed to consider his next words, his brow furrowed with confliction. “It’s just… this isn’t… you.”

The coldness in his stomach turned icy, but outwardly, he only crossed his arms, huffing out a short laugh. “So, ‘cus I’m not slacking off, I’m not me?” He couldn’t hold back the hurt in his tone.

Shiro took a few steps closer then, his eyes softer and almost pleading. “That’s not what I said, Lance.” He reached out towards him, but Lance backed away, refusing to meet his eye.

“It’s what you meant though,” he murmured.

Shiro’s hand hovered between them for a moment before he let it drop and Lance could feel concern pouring off the leader like repellent.

“What I meant,” said Shiro emphatically, “is that you usually know when to stop. You’re becoming so reckless lately. It’s getting dangerous.”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was true; even if he hadn’t actually been injured in a while, there had been too many close calls. It felt like no matter how prepared he was or how much he trained, everything always went wrong. He was putting the team in danger just by showing up to battle. 

He started to mumble an apology, but was startled when Shiro grabbed him firmly by the arm. Lance tensed up as if he’d been shocked again and his head snapped up. He felt like he was being crushed under the intensity of Shiro’s gaze, but he couldn’t move.

“I don’t want you to apologise, Lance. I want to know what’s wrong.”

Lance pulled away, shaking his head. It was always the same question. Everyone always wanted to know what was wrong. No one ever seemed to be able to figure it out – he was the problem. Without him, everything would be fine. He knew that, so why couldn’t they just see it already? He kept waiting for them to catch up – it was the waiting that was killing him more than the knowing it was going to happen – but it was like shining a spotlight into an abyss. It was so dark and deep that the beam merely disappeared before it could reach the bottom.

When Shiro said his name again, it was with such dejection - such mournfulness – that the sound of it made Lance want to tear his own heart out. He couldn’t breathe under its weight.

“Don’t- don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as if this was all just another nightmare he could blink awake from. “I hate it. Please. I’m sorry. Just stop.”

“Lance, please, just list-"

“Stop!” 

His fists shook at his sides and he was fighting his breath. It was all too fast, too much. He knew why Shiro was here. It was because Keith had sent him. Keith had sent in his big brother to sort out the mess he’d made. He thought he could use Lance’s guilt and shame against him; use his sense of duty to wring out some information. That asshole never gave up; _**none**_ of them ever gave up! 

Why wouldn’t they just give up? 

“Hey, Shiro!”

The voice cut through the heavy silence in the room, bright and chipper, and Lance blinked back into reality, his vision snapping up to see Pidge barrelling towards them. She scooted to a stop in front of the leader.

“Hey, I need your help with something in the kitchen,” she slurred in a hurry. Her head spun like an owl’s and her wide amber eyes fixed on Lance. “Oh hey, didn’t see you there, how you doing, I’m just gonna take Shiro here and get out of your hair, okay bye!”

Before Lance could even begin to catch up to her words, she had grabbed Shiro by the arm and was pulling him with an impressive amount of vigour towards the exit. Lance stared after them in blank awe. What the quiznak…?

Outside, Keith was standing with his face in his hands.

“Well, that went well,” he whispered condescendingly.

"It’s not like Lance to pass up a challenge," the leader stated just as quietly, looking back at the door. Keith wondered if that was his fault. Any time he’d shown up while Lance was training, it ended with the paladin on the floor, face flushed with shame.

“Maybe he really is just tired,” offered Hunk tentatively.

“I don’t doubt it with the rate he’s been going at,” sighed Coran, “but I can almost guarantee you that if you walk into that room right now, he’s back at it again.”

“You were too direct,” Keith told Shiro simply. “Every time I’ve tried that he’s only shut me out.”

“Maybe if you gave him some direction before sending him in there…” Pidge muttered sardonically.

“What am I, your acting coach?” he retorted a little louder than he’d intended. He was suddenly glad the castle had such good sound-proofing, despite the frustration it had caused a few ticks ago when the group was trying to listen in. 

“And I didn’t send him in there,” he continued more softly. “I said we should wait.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” interjected Allura. “We’ll have reached Halicon within the next fifteen vargas and then we won’t have a moment free for the next few quintants.”

“Delay the ship then!” said Keith irritatedly.

“We can’t,” said Hunk resignedly and everyone looked to him in surprise. “I don’t wanna push him either, Keith, but after… I just don’t…” He took a breath to refocus himself, then fixed Keith with hard eyes. Keith had noticed the way they hadn’t stopped shining with tears since they’d met this afternoon after the battle. 

“This has gone on long enough,” he declared, uncharacteristically sinister. “I don’t care how we do it; I just want him to be okay.”

Keith offered a sympathetic look to the yellow paladin, having wished more than anything over the last two movements – for longer even – for the exact same thing. 

Keith hadn’t wanted any of this. He was afraid that prodding Lance again so soon would only make things worse, never mind the fact that he’d been forced to tell the team what he knew. All of it, from that first conversation all those phoebs ago, to when he’d told Keith they didn’t trust him, right up until the moment only a few vargas ago when he’d said he felt lonely.

Every secret he’d told had felt like peeling a piece of his flesh off. He felt raw and dirty and disgusted with himself, but he’d had to do it, because they deserved to know. They had to know if they were going to have even the smallest chance of helping Lance. Keith thought that maybe if they showed Lance that he wasn’t alone, if they convinced him that they appreciated and trusted him, then he might finally let them in. They had run out of other options, and they were all terrified that they were going to run out of time too. None of them dared to acknowledge it out loud, or what that actually meant, but they all felt it as surely as they’d felt that horrible sensation in their lions that quintant. It was sitting like stagnant water between them.

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” asked Pidge. “The Shiro plan was all we had.”

“You said to be less direct?” enquired Shiro, raising an eyebrow.

Keith nodded and Hunk immediately cut in.

“So, we’re supposed to get him to talk without talking about the thing we want him to talk about?” He fiddled nervously with the tails of his head-band. “Is anyone else hearing how impossible that sounds?” 

"Don't lose hope just yet, Number Two,” Coran proclaimed, pushing past him. “I can get it out of him! I'm sure of it!" He flashed them all a grin and strode towards the door.

"Coran! Wait! He’s gonna know something’s up if you-" But it was too late. Coran was already bounding towards Lance, brimming with confidence.

"Hello there, young paladin!" Coran said cheerily. 

Lance was sitting on the floor again now. He’d debated chasing after Shiro and Pidge, but ultimately decided that if she hadn’t asked for his help, he wasn’t needed anyway. No way she’d ever trust him with anything again after this morning. After last movement. After all those missions. 

He wondered why – if – she’d ever actually trusted him in the first place.

Coran’s greeting took him by surprise and he almost had to supress a groan. Why was he here _**now**_? This was all too much. He’d barely had time to process what had just happened with Shiro and then Pidge.

His eyes flickered back and forth between Coran and the door. Come to think of it… this was really strange timing.

"Do you need something, Coran?" he forced himself to say without showing his irritation, pulling his legs up against his chest.

"Having trouble, are you?" the advisor asked, completely ignoring the query and plonking himself to the ground beside him. 

Lance fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t happy if he caught him training; he wasn’t happy when he caught him slacking. When was he happy? 

“No,” he started to reply, “I was just –“ but Coran didn’t allow him to finish. 

“You know, this reminds me of the time I went to Haroon in search of franilove eggs. It was one of the first times I’d left Altea; I was just a teenager at the time, and being away from my family was quite terrifying. Well, that and the hideous badobog monsters. Everywhere you went on that planet you’d find yourself face to face with one – good thing I had my trusty ovo-net. Could you imagine what would’ve happened if I’d left without it!”

Lance offered something between a smile and a grimace as Coran elbowed him lightly. “How is this like-"

“Of course, I could’ve used my Kazol blade to tickle their hurflaps – that would’ve sorted them out good and quick, but I was young and inexperienced; prone to mistakes. Can’t beat yourself up about these things when they happened so far in the past, can we?”

He studied Lance with a not so subtle side-glance and Lance thought it best not to reply. There was definitely something strange going on here. Shiro, then Pidge, and now Coran? He hadn’t seen this many people in quick succession since the parade on planet Tanezal.

When he didn’t answer, Coran started to fidget, his fingers tapping against the floor. 

“I know! Did I ever tell you about the time I was on Rybosol and bumped into a rather lovely Ansolian? They reminded me of someone back home and it sent me into a most uncomfortable bout of home-sickness. However, I find that talking about these things eases the stomach somewhat. I always keep that in mind in these situations.”

There were a few moments of silence once again before Lance began to speak. “Coran, I –“

“Oh, I almost forgot! What about the time I ended up stranded in the Tariho system? Now that’s a story, my boy!” Coran proceeded to ramble on about things that Lance had no idea about and eventually his mind began to drift away. He wondered if he’d ever have as many stories to tell as Coran. Probably not, considering the Altean lifespan compared to a human’s, but even so, he had a good few under his belt already. And some not so good. He’d never forget his slip up on Beta Traz. Sure, they’d gotten out of there with the right prisoner in the end, but how embarrassing was it that he’d mistaken someone’s pet for a super genius? She’d only said one word over and over the entire time! Maybe if he’d realised sooner, they wouldn’t have ended up getting sucked out of the airlock. God, Lance hated the airlock. Any airlock. That would be one thing he wouldn’t miss about Space when this was all over. 

He was drawn from his thoughts when Allura came barging in, cutting off Coran’s wordy drones. 

"Coran, you are needed on the bridge,” she said, pulling him up and giving him a light shove towards the door. 

“Are you sure I shouldn’t finish my story, Princess?” he prompted in an obvious tone.

“Quite sure,” replied Allura. Coran looked disappointed. 

“Very well, Princess. I shall go and lend my assistance to the other paladins.”

Keith listened nervously at the door, stepping back as Coran made his exit. 

“Why did you pull me out?” the advisor asked with a pout.

“Because you rambled on for five minutes about absolutely nothing,” retorted Pidge.

“Besides, I already told you it’s not homesickness,” said Keith agitatedly.

“Just covering all my bases,” Coran professed, waving a hand dismissively. “It could have been loneliness brought on _**by**_ homesickness.”

“It’s not,” gritted Keith. “It’s something… deeper than that. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Everyone looked at him curiously, but he really couldn’t say anything more than that. He’d never been good at talking about stuff, but recently everything had just gotten so much more complex. He couldn’t even make sense of it in his own head, never mind put it into words. 

He inched back towards his listening spot and tried to breathe through his distress. This was going nowhere fast and he couldn’t even do anything about it. If he so much as put a toe through the doorway, Lance would be out of there faster than Red rushing to a rescue.

“I hope Allura has a better plan,” fretted Hunk.

Inside, Lance stared up at Allura who had made no move to leave. She simply smiled and lowered herself to the ground beside him with a kind of awkward gracefulness, like a silk sheet falling into a blender. So, now the princess was in on it. Did they think he was stupid?

“Hello, Lance. How are you?”

“Fine,” he seethed. How many more times was he going to have to deal with this today? He should have stayed in his room after all. 

The princess seemed unsettled by his apparent irritation but pushed on anyway. “I thought it would be nice to chat; it’s been so long since we’ve had the chance! How are you getting along with the Altean broadsword? Your skills are greatly improving from what I’ve seen during missions.” 

Lance almost did a double-take. Was she joking? The last time he’d pulled it out in battle he’d accidentally sliced through a support beam along with his adversary. He felt his cheeks burning and from the way Allura was looking at him, he knew he must be about as red as his bayard.

She knit her brows. "Would you like some milk?" 

"Wha-“ Lance stared at her in complete shock. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. “No, why would I want milk?" he asked once he’d finally untangled his tongue.

"Forgive me,” she said disappointedly. “I saw how your complexion changed and from observing yourself and the other paladins, I had surmised that it is a human custom that, whenever someone is embarrassed, one points out that they ‘need some milk’."

“Oh my God,” Lance gawped. He wasn’t given much time to reflect on the insanity of what had just happened because he was distracted by a noise at the door; a strangled cry of something that sounded like an amalgamation of disappointment, laughter and rage. 

Meanwhile, outside…

“Pidge!” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t have been the only one who heard that!” she exclaimed in a whisper, torn between amusement at hearing an alien accidentally meme and shame at the fact that said alien hadn’t yet realised that she’d completely _**roasted**_ Lance.

“Well, _**he**_ definitely heard you, so that means it’s your turn.” Keith pressed the pad to open the door and gave her a shove. 

Pidge came stumbling through the door and took a deep, slow breath before speaking. “Sorry for barging in again, but… Allura, please tell me I didn’t just hear what I thought I heard,” she said, brows pinched pleadingly.

“I – I don’t understand… Did I say something wrong?”

“I – I just – you know that was basically an insult, right?”

The princess’ eyes flew wide open. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! I assumed I was offering some kind of assistance. Milk is an insult, then?”

"Allura, no, that's not- that's not how a meme works." She looked like she was in physical pain. 

Lance watched the exchange with absolute incredulity. His theory was pretty much confirmed at this point. Was the whole team listening at the door? He felt his face heat up to what must be dangerous levels, fuelled by anger and shame. Perhaps he’d melt into a puddle and then be able to drown in himself. 

"I don't understand,” pouted Allura. “Can you... explain what a, what did you call it, a meme is?" 

"I-" She turned to Lance imploringly, looking like she’d been asked to divide by zero. "How do you explain a meme to someone without any on hand?" 

“Are you kidding me?!” he countered almost viciously and Pidge’s eyes widened in alarm. Allura didn’t seem to get the message though.

"Hold on a tick. That peanut thing you spoke about on Arus; is that a meme too?" 

Pidge was yanked back into the debate, forgetting Lance’s outburst in her utter disbelief. She marched right up to the princess. 

"N-No! Peanuts are food! Y'know, that you eat!" She made eating motions with her hand, her glasses slipping down and making her look even more dishevelled in her exasperation. 

"You can eat a meme? This all sounds very complicated." Allura pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Wha- no!" Pidge dropped her head in her hands, suddenly going very quiet. Lance watched as Allura poked at Pidge’s leg, trying to get her to respond, then got to his feet. Whatever was going on, he’d had enough.

“Do you guys think I’m stu-"

"Um, hey guys... I was just walking by and heard Pidge shouting -" Shiro strolled in, heading straight for Pidge - “and I think that whatever it is that you’re arguing about isn’t very important and maybe you should put it aside for later?” He spoke so obviously that Lance would have laughed at his tactlessness if it weren’t for his outrage at the sheer nerve of the lot of them.

“Guys! –"

Coran walked in now as Allura got to her feet, joining their little circle, Lance left on the outside. 

"Yes, number five, I understand that you're... frustrated? But there's no need to shout at the princess." 

“Guys! I –"

“Wait, guys,” began Pidge, distress giving way to realisation as she looked around at the quickly growing crowd, “we can’t all-"

“Hey!” called Hunk frantically from the doorway, his nervousness clear by the way he was pulling at the ends of his bandana, “Kitchen emergency! Anyone?!”

That was the last straw.

“ _ **Are you serious?!**_ ” screamed Lance, and his friends finally seemed to notice him. They all turned to look at him, a whole herd of deer caught in headlights. 

“Yeah! That’s right! I’m still here, and I know what you’re doing!” 

No one spoke. Their eyes shifted back and forth, each one looking to another, silently asking what they should do.

Lance’s head snapped towards the doorway. "Keith, I know you're out there! This stupid plan has you written all over it!” 

“It wasn’t his fault, Lance,” said Hunk tightly, but the ex-paladin stepped into view next to him anyway, sporting a scowl to match Lance’s own. Lance wanted to say something to him, to shout, to punch him in his stupidly stoic face, but he couldn’t. He felt suddenly weak again, thinking about what Keith had done. His legs were going to give out. 

“Lance?” came Pidge’s voice, a leaf shaking on the end of a branch.

Keith had done this. 

His strength returned in a flood of terror-driven fury. 

“What did he tell you?!” he spat, pointing forcefully towards the boy as he and Hunk stepped into the circle. There was no point trying to hide anymore. No one ever took him seriously anyway. He was a joke. A mess.

“I did what I had to, Lance!” Keith blew back, his indigo eyes suddenly alight with a hundred different colours and emotions that Lance couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“You didn’t _**have**_ to do anything!” he cried, pushing down the sob that threatened to break with his words. “You could have just left me alone! You could have left them alone! I told you to stay out of it!”

“Keith isn’t the one who brought us here Lance,” said Shiro sternly. “This is on you.”

“We couldn’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself anymore,” cut in Allura. “We know how much you’re hurting, Lance. We felt it.” She sounded sickened by her own words and Lance reacted pretty much the same.

He growled, pulling at his hair gripped tight between his fingers. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this for any of you. I just keep screwing everything up!”

"No!” Pidge shouted, her jaw hanging in outrage, but he was right. If he hadn’t been so bad at hiding, if he hadn’t been so weak and confided in Keith, then his friends wouldn’t be standing there, looking at him like that. He’d just wanted to keep them smiling. He didn’t want them to worry. He didn’t want them to see him the way he saw himself. That meant it would all be over. What use was there in trying when the final verdict had already been made? He wasn’t good enough. They didn’t get it. He would never be good enough.

Why should they stick around to watch him fail?

Keith hadn’t.

“Look, buddy, Lance, this is my fault, okay,” cut in Hunk, his eyes glimmering with fat tears and he was quickly met with a resounding chorus of “no!” from everyone in the room.

“But it is!” cried the yellow paladin, his cheeks wet for probably the tenth time today. “I was supposed to be your best friend. I should have known something was up and –"

“Don’t you _**dare**_ ,” roared Lance, his own face streaked with tears now. He’d finally reached it. The end. He was drowning. It was so cold and everything was starting to feel so far away. “This is exactly what I didn’t want! I tried so hard to protect you guys and I –"

“Protect us from what?!” yelled Pidge.

Lance shook his head, clamping his mouth shut. They wouldn’t understand. They’d think he was being silly; over-dramatic. Just like they always had. They were so blind to all the trouble he had caused them. He couldn’t make them see sense.

Hunk took a step towards Lance. “Buddy, you’re scaring us.”

Lance shuffled backwards, away from his outstretched hand, making the gap even wider. He could feel the pity radiating from them now – no, not pity; _**concern**_ – making his shoulders shrink, making his heart shiver with disdain. 

“You need to stay away from me,” he whispered between shaky breaths. 

“Lance, don’t do this,” said Shiro. “We’re here for you.”

Something in him snapped at that. No. _**Splintered**_. 

“ _ **I don’t want you here**_!” he screamed, tearing up his throat, more hot trails pouring over his cheeks. He couldn’t understand why they were still here. Look at what he’d done to them, and yet they were still here. He couldn’t stand it. He was so confused and angry with himself and every inch of his body was shaking so hard it was _**agony**_.

Keith couldn’t keep out of it any longer. He’d stayed quiet for the sake of his friends, for the sake of Lance, but watching him push them away like this, seeing the way each one of them shrank and trembled before his eyes; Keith couldn’t just stand by and let it happen. 

He yelled suddenly, in an explosion of all the anger and fear and frustration that had been building since the moment he’d seen that Galra blade slice through Lance’s arm. Every thought and feeling that had been rampaging around inside him for the last two movements was coming together in one monstrous twister, making it impossible to keep any of it in anymore. 

“You really think we give a _**damn**_ what you want anymore?!” He stormed up to Lance, so close that the paladin could feel his breath ruffling his hair. “You think we care about your stupid ego?!”

“Ego?!” Lance yelled back in disbelief, their foreheads almost touching.

“Yes, Lance, ego! Because what you’re doing is selfish! Here you have a room full of people who love you, who just want to help you, and you’re going to turn your back on them just because you’re too afraid to face your own feelings?!”

Lance’s eyes had gone wide, the blue irises trembling with rage, sorrow, betrayal. Shiro seemed to take that as a queue to step in.

"Ok, that’s enough,” he said sternly, pushing the two boys apart.

"Yes, I think we should all just... calm down," Allura tried, walking over to Lance and putting a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off viciously, his whole body shaking. He couldn't focus on any one emotion. It was just a cloud of fear, anger and sadness. He could feel everything that he'd worked so hard to hide, spilling out. 

“Oh, you’re one to talk, _**Keith**_.” He spat the name like poison. “You know, one of the most confusing things about this whole back and forth we’ve had going on, has been wondering why the Hell you’ve stuck around for so long. Tell me; why is it you’re having such a hard time turning your back on me now, because you definitely didn’t give a shit last time!”

It was like a bomb had gone off in the room. Everything froze and there was ringing in his ears like a warning, his vision cloudy as if obscured by smoke. And everything was so hot, flames licking at his skin and trying to burn him up. 

Pidge was the first to react, her words cutting through the haze like a whip on his back. "Lance, what the Hell?!" Her eyes were wide and searing with horror and betrayal.

He could feel cinders escape like a sickness on his breath. "You're no better than him, _**Katie**_! You left just like he did!" 

" _ **What**_?” she screeched, storming up to him.

“I said, _**enough**_!” belted Shiro, but Lance was past caring what he thought. He was past caring what anyone thought. The universe was a cruel place, and the people were the worst part.

"When you went to find Matt! You just abandoned us, not knowing how long you'd be gone! If you hadn’t found him, would you ever have come back? Would we have mattered at all to you?”

"How _**dare you**_! Matt's my _**family**_!” she cried, her face etched with hurt. “I didn’t have a choice!”

"I thought _**we**_ were family!" thundered Lance. He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. All of his terror at the thought of being left alone – left behind – was accumulating at last and he spoke in blind fury, unable to tame the words that flew like spittle from his mouth. “All we have up here is each other, but no one seems to want to stick around!” He directed another glare at Keith. “I’m not the one being selfish here!”

"Lance!" Shiro's voice was stern as he took a few steps towards him. "You're not acting like yourself! You don’t know what you’re saying!"

"I'm not acting like myself?! Wow, that's kind of hypocritical isn't it?” 

Shiro stopped dead in his tracks, his face set hard and unreadable. The room was silent, but for the tight, pained sniffs of the youngest paladin. They echoed around the room, drilled into Lance’s ears until they finally broke through to his sense, and he realised with crushing finality; he had caused that. He had caused…

The two of them were only staring for a couple of ticks, but in those ticks, as Lance began to notice all the hurt around him - hurt that he had caused - he felt the beginnings of doubt and regret trickling into his stomach from a slowly tilting bucket. They were all looking at him like he was some kind of monster. And he was. He’d become exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. He’d done the one thing that he’d never wanted to do. 

He had to get out. He had to get away from them.

Lance broke away, rushing for the door.

“Ooooh no,” shouted Pidge, her voice thick with the emotions swimming in her throat. “You don't just get to walk away after speaking to us like that!" 

Lance could feel everyone on his tail as he tore down the corridor. They shouted his name, some in anger, some in fear. His vision was blurring, his chest getting tighter and tighter. He just needed to get to his room, to lock himself away. Everything was in shambles. His friendships, his reputation, his hopes – however miniscule they’d been at that point. And it was his fault. He knew that now more than ever. All his fears had come to fruition. He was alone and trapped and he couldn’t see a way out. 

Once he was in his room, he locked the door and stepped slowly backwards away from the pounding and calling that assaulted it, clutching the sides of his head, trying to block it all out. He felt more tears fountain over his cheeks and willed himself to stop, but he couldn’t, just like he couldn’t stop any of this. He didn’t have any control over himself anymore. All he could do was collapse onto the floor and thrust his head between his knees, hugging them to his chest and trying not to be swallowed by the black torrents of fear wrapping around his limbs and climbing down his oesophagus, clogging his insides.

“We’re not going anywhere until you open the door!”

Keith. Lance didn’t have the breath to reply, so he continued to shudder as each knock hammered down upon the metal, right up until he heard someone try to lead Keith away.

“We can’t just let him sit there!” barked the ex-paladin, his voice cracking helplessly.

“He’s not gonna let us in, Keith,” said Hunk sadly, gently coaxing him towards the others. “Just give him some time.”

“We’ve given him plenty of time, Hunk, and look what happened!” Keith squeezed his eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath in an attempt to control himself. He didn’t want to yell at Hunk. He didn’t want to yell at any of them. They weren’t the enemy; no one was. That’s what made this so hard. He didn’t have an outlet for all of this frustration. It was like Shiro had said; this was one problem he couldn’t just punch away, and that left him utterly defenceless.

“You guys were right,” he said. “We needed to act, but then I yelled at him and now…”

“I know,” said Hunk sombrely, “but it’s not your fault, Keith, and breaking the door down isn’t going to help.”

“We’ll see about that,” grumbled Keith, but he made no move to start banging again. He looked around at his friends. They all looked tired, defeated; even more so than they had earlier today. He’d seen them look this way plenty of times before when they’d failed a mission, but this was different. This was more akin to the time they’d lost Allura to Zarkon.

Now, they’d lost Lance. He was so far gone that Keith didn’t even recognise him anymore. The old Lance would never have lashed out at his team-mates like that – his family, as he’d called them – but thinking about it, Keith wasn’t sure he blamed him. The plan had failed, and quite spectacularly at that. Instead of a friendly intervention, it had turned into a rage-filled shouting match, in which there were no winners. He’d wanted to show Lance that he wasn’t alone - that he didn’t have to be - but he’d only ended up isolating him even more. He had to fix this.

Keith stepped towards the door again and felt Hunk’s hand clutch his shoulder. He turned back and gave him a reassuring nod and he felt the fingers loosen reluctantly, letting him go. Keith knocked again, softer this time.

“Lance?”

Silence. Bone-chilling silence.

He let out a breath, trying to stay calm, and closed his eyes, sliding to the floor, back against the cold metal door. “Guess we’re going to be here a while. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” He wasn’t sure if Lance would take that as a comfort or a threat, but he was at his last resort. 

Hunk smiled tearfully and joined him on the floor. “Me too. If you’re gonna beat yourself up in there, consider me next in line,” he laughed teasingly.

“Excuse me,” said Pidge indignantly, “but I’m the one he insulted. I get next dibs.” She sat down on Keith’s other side, hurriedly wiping the tear trails from her face and crossing her arms and legs persistently.

Keith smiled sadly at the two of them and then looked up at Shiro.

The leader hadn’t said a word since the training deck, his face still straight and unchangeable. He turned to Allura and Coran. “Better get comfy. We’re in this for the long haul.”


	8. Chapter 8, Soz It's Late but Wow, It's Fate so You Can't Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last chance.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts (nothing more intense/less subtle than previous chapters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter is late; I had an exam today so I've been attempting to revise instead of editing (I ended up mostly editing anyway tbh) But yeah, that exam is good and failed so back to the grind! (Except I have an essay due monday so next chapter might be a tad late too I'm sorry please don't hate me uni is hard)  
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter; I'm quite proud of it and I'm hoping you guys will start to see things coming together now.  
> And, again, thank you so much for all the comments; they make us so happy! You guys are amazing!
> 
> ALSO DID ANYONE SEE THE NEW SEASON 8 TRAILER SAVE US ALL
> 
> honest_pebble: Hey guys @honest_pebble is back again because why wouldn’t I be  
> Anyway I don’t really have much to say about this chapter other than oh boy I’m shook to the core and I was part of the writing process, so that’s fun.   
> Also um, I was re-reading it with floralfatality and honestly all I could think of once I was done was Lauren Montgomery’s tweet with just the words ‘Christ.’ Because honestly it’s such a mood for this chapter. Anyway, sorry this is up late, floralfatality had an exam (save her please)  
> Thank you for all of your support guys, it means the absolute world!! Talk to you next chapter! ^.^

The silence had quickly gotten to all of them. 

For the first varga or so, Hunk had managed to keep up the chatter, although to a minimal level and never about anything important. Keith had tuned in at one point to find the yellow paladin listing what he assumed were types of pasta while the others nodded and hummed along, clearly not actually listening to anything he was saying. Every so often Hunk would direct a question to the door at their backs, but everyone had long since lost hope of hearing any kind of answer. Lance wasn’t in the mood to talk. No one was surprised.

They’d messed up. They’d messed up so damn much. 

Keith couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he’d said. He knew the others were doing the same thing. It was like a sewing circle, but each one of them was an unskilled amateur and the tapestry at their feet was riddled with mistakes. They could all pin-point all the little slip-ups and missed stitches in their pattern, but once they began to pull them out, they realised that the whole piece was so damaged and disjointed that really it was a lost cause. They wondered if they should have even tried.

Eventually, even Hunk succumbed to the misery and the group sat heavily in a listless quiet, staring glassy-eyed at the walls and watching as the castle lights grew dimmer and dimmer, set to a timer which coincided with earth hours. As the darkness grew, so too did it grow inside all of them. 

Keith _**hated**_ this. None of them knew what was going on inside that room, and Keith was sure his guesses were just as frightening as the reality, if not more so. There were so many long, painful doboshes of nothingness that threatened to strangle him. He knew what state of mind Lance was in, and he didn’t trust him not to do something stupid; something desperate. Every time he heard the sound of shifting, or a sniff or a sigh, his heart turned into a jackhammer and he was overcome with relief that Lance was still there, but following that, he would tumble back down into the hole it had made once everything inevitably fell to nothing again. 

He didn’t know how much longer he could handle this. Allura had told them that they could easily override the castle systems and force the door to unlock, but it hadn’t felt right. They’d forced themselves on him once already; Keith had done so several times in the last few movements. No one wanted to make things worse; if that was even possible at this point.

His mind kept swinging back to Lance’s eyes. They were supernovas, glowing so bright with emotion that once the rage had burned away, there was nothing left but empty space. Keith had seen the pain; he could practically smell it on Lance’s breath when he spoke. As much as he’d tried to hide it, those words had really cut through him. He should have seen it coming; after all, all the clues had been there. He’d known on some level that Lance was mad with him for leaving; he just didn’t realise that it had mattered so much to him.

He acted like Keith had wanted to leave; like it was easy for him. He didn’t know about all the nightmares he had had, filled with the blood and bone and tears of his friends, the ones where he was too far away to save them. He didn’t know about the way the silence of the Marmora base grated on his ears, and skin, and _**organs**_ , now that he had gotten so used to the friendly voices bouncing around the Castle corridors. He didn’t know how much Keith wished he could come back, because the cold emptiness was so suffocating now that Keith knew what it felt like to have a circle of friends that stretched all around him. Lance didn’t understand. He didn’t get it.

“Maybe we should go.”

It was so quiet that Keith almost thought he’d imagined it, but judging by the wide eyes still fixed on the youngest paladin, he guessed not.

“ _ **What?!**_ ” Keith burst incredulously and she shot him a look of hostility before her eyes darted to the door and back, indicating that he should quieten the quiznak down so Lance wouldn’t hear them. He narrowed his eyes at her in disapproval, but lowered his voice anyway.

“Pidge, what the Hell? We all agreed –"

“Yeah, I know,” she cut in at a firm whisper, “but he _**told**_ us he didn’t want us here. What if we’re still just making this worse?”

Allura shook her head. “He shouldn’t be left alone right now.”

“But this is what’s driven him away in the first place though!” Pidge insisted. “It’s like we’re ganging up on him.”

“We’re trying to help, Pidge,” said Shiro sternly.

“I don’t know,” hummed Coran, seemingly conflicted. “Pidge might be onto something there. I know from experience that pushing him isn’t going to improve matters much.”

“We’re hardly pushing him when he won’t even let us in the room!” retorted Keith sharply.

“He knows we’re all out here though,” chimed in Hunk anxiously.

“That was kind of the point!” Keith breathed in exasperation.

“Yeah, but… I… I don’t know, okay!” replied Hunk, his face scrunching with frustration and worry. “We tried leaving him alone and that didn’t work. We tried _**not**_ leaving him alone and that _**really**_ didn’t work. So, what are we supposed to do?”

“We stay!” spat Keith. He saw the way Hunk flinched and immediately felt bad, but not bad enough to take it back. The idea of leaving… There was a piece of wire wrapped around his heart and he could feel it digging in deeper and deeper. If he left now – _**if he turned his back on Lance again**_ \- he knew that it would draw tighter, would cut through completely, leaving his heart in bloody chunks.

Allura, ever the peace-keeper, stepped in.

“Perhaps, if it feels like ‘ganging up’, as Pidge suggested,” she said carefully, “we should reduce our numbers?”

Keith lifted his head to meet her eyes. She wasn’t giving anything away, but Keith knew she was scared anyway. She was used to making decisions. She was used to knowing what to do. She was trying her best to keep what was left of them from falling apart as well. 

He looked at her resolutely, but the words came out less so, tinged with a touch of his own fear. “I’m not leaving him again.”

Her face softened with understanding and he saw a flash of something like reassurance in her gaze. She turned to the two men sat beside her and spoke louder, no doubt so that Lance would hear. Keith didn’t think it would matter much; the walls were so thin here that, if Lance was even still listening to anything they had to say, he probably already knew exactly what was going on. 

“Shiro, Coran; we should begin making preparations for our meeting with the Haliconians, don’t you think?”

Shiro’s eyes landed on Keith and Keith instantly recognised the look. It was same one Shiro had given him on his first day at the Garrison, regretting that he couldn’t stay to help him find his way. It was the same look that had made Keith’s stomach knot and his panic flare as Shiro lay, dying, on that planet far away, telling Keith that he wanted him to take over as the black paladin when he was gone.   
Shiro didn’t want to go, but he knew that he probably had to.

Keith gave a short nod to assure his friend – his brother – that he would be okay, and Shiro’s face hardened with resolve as he pushed himself to his feet beside the Alteans. 

“We’ll come back later to check on… things,” he said and the three still on the floor gave their weary affirmation, watching the other half of their group go.

Keith glanced over at Hunk beside him. He was fidgeting with the hem of his gloves, pulling at the elastic around the fingers. Keith was so used to seeing him smile; his joy could fill up a room in seconds. He didn’t think he’d ever see the guy look so… hollow. 

The contrast was too familiar. It made his chest tighten. 

“Hunk?”

The yellow paladin looked over and forced his lips into a shaky grin. “Yeah?”

“You were telling us about the best temperature for pastries?”

Hunk’s eyes filled with warmth – with gratitude – and then he settled into his rambling again. Pidge and Keith joined in from time to time, the three of them trying to stave off that horrible silence, huddling together against the darkness leaking into the corridor all around them. The whole process was like a knife in Keith’s side. He wanted to yank it out, get it over with, but the blade was the only thing stemming the flow. He knew he had to be patient. They were all trying to be patient, sitting there and praying the wounds wouldn’t get infected in the mean-time. It was fine, until the pain got to be too much.

“It’s so _**dark**_ ,” flared Pidge, agitated. 

Keith quirked an eyebrow as if to say, “you’re just figuring this out?” She wasn’t paying attention anyway.

“An alien spaceship with some of the best technology in the _**universe**_ ,” she rambled, “and it doesn’t even have motion-sensitive lighting.” She paused, looking thoughtful, then started waving her arms like a mad-man towards the ceilings. When nothing happened, she huffed, crossing her arms. “Stupid,” she muttered. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” 

Keith didn’t need light to tell that she was tearing up again.

There were a few awkward ticks of silence in which Hunk and Keith exchanged a wary look.

“Hey, Pidge-“ Hunk began, but she shot to her feet before he could lay a hand on her.

“I’m going to go look at the circuits,” she grumbled, storming off down the corridor, practically kicking the floor in anger. 

“Uh, Keith?” came Hunk’s tentative voice.

“It’s okay,” Keith said simply. “Make sure she doesn’t break anything – on the ship, or her.”

Hunk gave him a sheepish smile and then ran after Pidge, yelling at her to wait up. 

And then, there was one. Or rather-

"Just us two then," Keith sighed. 

The silence was somehow worse now without people to fill the empty space. It took him a dobosh to realise that he was preparing himself to say something, but he didn't know what it was. He didn't know what he should say, what he _**could**_ say, but it couldn’t be nothing; nothing was getting them nowhere. Nothing was getting Lance nowhere. 

“You still- You doing okay in there?” he asked pathetically.

Nothing.

He gritted his teeth to bite back the irritation. "Look, I know you don't want to speak to us right now, but you've got to give me _**something**_ , Lance. I just- need you to let me know you're okay... or not okay or... I don't know." He let his head roll back in defeat, dropping his hands into his lap. "I've never been good at this stuff. Emotions, talking, comforting people... I usually rely on you for that stuff.”

It had been a long time since Keith had seen it, but Lance had this incredible skill for making people feel comfortable around him. Hunk could do it in a sort of cute way that made you know immediately that you could trust him, but Lance; Lance made you feel you’d known him for years before you’d even spoken your first words to him. All the teasing, all the snappy comebacks Lance had thrown his way, yeah, he’d hated it at the time, but he’d known Lance long enough now to realise what he was doing. Keith probably would have spent his whole trip in space crossed-armed in the corner, watching everyone else get along, just like he always had, if Lance hadn’t repeatedly dragged him into the pointless banter. Where was _**that**_ Lance? The one that flourished in a crowd and made you feel like you could be part of it too?

“The others seem to think crowding you is a bad idea,” Keith said thoughtfully, then winced at the memory of the earlier training deck fiasco. “I mean, I guess, actually, I get where they’re coming from, after… well… you know. That’s why you’re here, and that’s why I’m… talking to a quiznaking door - Lance, c’mon!” he groaned in frustration, whirling around and banging twice on the door with his fist. “This isn’t fair! You’re not the only one who’s hurt – Pidge didn’t deserve what you said to her, you know! And I know that if you were in the same position – if it was your family – you would’ve done the same thing. You need to tell her you’re sorry.”

His eyes fell on his fist, covered by the dark fabric of his uniform. His Marmora uniform.

He slumped back down against the door with a jerk. “Or maybe you did mean it,” he muttered, studying his hands in the slight glow of the lights on his chest-plate. 

“I didn’t,” he said. “Mean to hurt you, I mean - when I left. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. That’s _**why**_ I left.”

He sighed again when, as expected, there was no reply. 

“Lance?” he tried, but there was no point. It was just Keith out here and the wire was tightening and the knife was loosening and the shadows were suffocating and he felt about ready to fall into that pit his heart had dug, except now it was coming up to meet him; a huge, gaping jaw closing around him and swallowing him into an airless vacuum. His eyes stung and his throat constricted and he let out a sound half like an angry grunt and half like a sob as he powered to his feet, rounding on door again.

"Lance, please, say something!” he cried, leaning into the door with a _**slam**_ of his palms. “I don't care if it's to tell me to shut up, or if it's an insult; just tell me you're still there!” 

His voice was cracking like a pre-teen’s, but still, his pleas elicited no response.

Keith pushed himself backwards into the opposite wall and let out a shaky breath, rubbing at his eyes as hot moisture spilled over. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t just sit here. He had to… he just needed to walk it off. Just a couple of doboshes. 

He took off before he could think any better of it, before he could start yelling or crying again. He felt the anger and frustration leaking out through his soles with every step, leaving him throbbing with a cold sense of loss and defeat.

* * *

He’d only been five doboshes. _**Five.**_

Keith stared open-mouthed at the vacant room, his gaze flickering to the shadows, trying to find shapes in the darkness that just weren’t there.

_**Five doboshes.** _

His eyes had caught on the doorway as soon as he’d rounded the corner. When he’d seen it empty, he’d almost choked. Lance didn’t answer when he called out. Lance wasn’t in the room when he skidded to a stop. It was empty. Soul-crushingly empty. Heart-wrenchingly. Dreadfully. 

_**Panic.** _

Keith’s yells grew loud and desperate as he ran aimlessly from door to door, hoping against all reason that maybe Lance hadn’t gone too far.

_**God**_ , he was so _**stupid**_. He _**knew**_ not to leave him alone. He’d let himself get overwhelmed and that was exactly what Lance had been waiting for. He’d known they’d all leave him. Again. And now Lance was the one who was gone.

But where?! There was nowhere _**to**_ go! They were stuck on a ship in the middle of-

Keith knew where to go.

The corridors blurred past as he sprinted towards the hangar. He didn’t know how far Lance had gotten and if he was already in his lion, there was no way Keith would ever catch up without one of his own. Lance already had an advantage taking the shortcut. Keith just had to hope that he could run as fast as a zipline and cruiser, which admittedly seemed unlikely. In fact, it was impossible.

He needed a new plan.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he took a right instead of a left and headed up to the control room. Upon reaching it, he immediately dove for the intercom system. He really wished Pidge or Coran were here right now because he had no idea how to work any of this and he had a feeling tapping at random buttons on an alien space ship was about the worst thing he could do. That was when he spotted the big red microphone button.

He slammed his hand down on it. 

“Lance!” he cried, the sound almost scraping his throat raw. "Lance! What are you doing?!" 

Keith was so afraid that he would continue to give him the silent treatment, but then he heard Lance’s distraught voice sound over the line. 

“I’m getting out of here before I make things worse!” he yelled, his voice high and words clearly working to push past thick tears.

“Lance, this is insane!” Keith found himself clutching the fabric around his chest and he could feel his heart racing, nails digging in, willing it to slow down and let him think.

“You guys don’t need me!” spat Lance. “You said it yourself. I’m just hurting everyone. I need to leave.”

“Damnit, Lance, I didn’t- I wasn’t talking about you!” Keith bunched his hair in one fist, panic seizing him. He didn’t know what to do. Lance was leaving, getting further and further away with each second. He thought maybe his heart might burst from his chest and leap after him. 

“You all think I’m a lost cause anyway!” Lance shouted as if the words were tearing him apart. “I can see how you look at me- how you talk about me; like I’m broken and I need to be fixed! Well, what if I can’t be fixed, Keith? Then what? What if I’m just as useless as I’m always going to be?!” His voice was primal, the crackling of the com line as the lion sped further and further away only adding to his broken tones of hysteria.

“Lance, stop!”

“You don’t need me!” he repeated desperately. “You can be the red paladin! I can’t do it anymore! It was never meant to be me!”

Terror was clutching Keith from all sides, pulling him in so many different directions he felt dizzy. At Lance’s words, he felt something within him finally snap. 

“I can’t be the red paladin if you’ve stolen the red lion!” he yelled angrily, gripping the control panel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Then I’ll drop myself off at the nearest planet and you can –"

The sudden break had Keith’s breath stuck in his throat. 

“Lance!” he screamed, every inch of him frozen in the agony of terror. 

“ _ **Lance!**_ ” 

When the paladin’s voice finally came through, it clutched at Keith’s panicking heart, driving needles into the soft tissue.

“ _ **No!**_ Red, don’t do this to me! Wake up! Please, buddy! _**Please!**_ ”

Keith listened to the bangs and clicks and grunts as Lance pushed desperately at the controls of his lion and his eyes grew wide. Red had locked him out.

“No, no, no, no…” whimpered Lance. He sounded so hopeless, but Keith couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Lance-"

“He doesn’t want me!” Lance cried, fear slipping through his frustration.

Keith found himself shaking his head in utter disgust at the accusation. “You idiot, he stopped because he _**does**_ want you! He doesn’t want you to leave him!” 

“I don’t-"

“What was your big plan anyway?” he seethed, unable to stop his hysterical thoughts from breaking through again. “Speed off into space with no provisions; no backup? You’d be killed, Lance!”

“I don’t care!” screeched the paladin and the stinging in Keith’s eyes became suddenly unbearable. “I just needed to get out! I need some space!”

“Oh yeah,” scoffed Keith, trying not to cough through the sob sitting in his throat, “you’ll find plenty of _**space**_ out there!”

“Screw you!” There was a sound like static and a loud clack, likely as Lance’s helmet smacked against the floor of the cockpit. He hadn’t switched the com off though. 

Keith spun away from the control panel, hands running through his hair in a tangle. He heaved a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Lance was safe. That was what he had to focus on right now. Red wouldn’t let him do anything stupid. Keith just had to get him to come back. _**How**_ was he going to get him to come back? 

“Lance,” he tried again, the name sounding like a crushed plea. “Listen to me.” 

He let himself breathe for a few ticks, trying to redirect his frantic emotions, and concentrate them into something less brash; purer. The light whisper of white-noise was drumming through the speaker. This time, he knew for sure Lance was still there. He just hoped he was listening.

“ _ **Please**_ come back, Lance. You’re wrong. We _**do**_ need you. That’s why we won’t leave you alone. That’s why we do stupid things like play tag-team with your emotions. We’re not looking down on you, or trying to fix you; we’re trying to bring you back to us. Because we _**need**_ you.”

All the fire was gone from his voice now. Keith felt his body pulsing around him like the tide, each little nudge coaxing him onwards.

“Wherever you are right now,” he said in a low tone, “whatever you’re feeling; you don’t belong there, Lance. You belong with us. We don’t work without you; that’s pretty clear from what’s happened today.”

He took another moment to balance himself, leaning forward over the controls, his eyes clamped shut. Everything he wanted to say was swirling through his head like ink in water. The moment he reached for something, it would only drift away. He didn’t know enough to be doing this. He didn’t know what Lance wanted him to say. 

“I just keep messing everything up,” came Lance’s voice, quiet and strained, making Keith glance up in surprise. “I keep hurting people. Even when I’m trying to protect them, I’m hurting them. I can’t keep hurting them.” 

His voice was shaking and Keith felt himself shaking with it. 

“It’ll hurt them more if you’re gone.”

“Only for a little while,” Lance all but whispered. “They’ll be better off without me.”

Just as Keith was about to protest, he felt recognition clawing up from his lungs into his mouth, blocking the words. All of his strength left him in a slow breath and before he knew it, the right words were teetering from the end of his tongue.

“Was it better without me?”

The words almost seemed to echo around the room, ringing in Keith’s ears. He knew the answer to that question. He’d told himself a thousand times, “yes,” but now he knew the truth. There had been, all this time, a little bird flapping against the cage of his denial, squeaking its distress, begging to be set free. There was a note tied to its leg. It read: 

_**You’re a fucking idiot.** _

He’d known the signs. He’d _**lived**_ the signs. Lance had been waiting all this time for someone to understand, and Keith did; he’d just been too focused on _**trying**_ to understand Lance to see it. He’d kept looking at Lance like he was some other species – which he guessed was half-true – but in the end, the two of them were more similar than he’d thought. They’d both thought the same ways; they’d both done the same things. All that really meant was…

_**They were both fucking idiots.** _

“I was wrong,” said Keith, testing the words on his tongue. “I- I get it now.”

There was a pained sigh. “Keith –"

“You’re angry,” Keith said quickly. “Not with anyone else; you’re angry with yourself, because every time you put on that armour -” Keith took a slow breath, trying not to grit his teeth and garble the words – “you’re reminded of everything you’re supposed to be. And you’re never enough. You work and you work and it never seems to end because you’re never going to be enough. I get it, Lance. I – I’ve been there.”

The line stayed silent, but Keith had more to say. Everything was spilling out of him. He was a botched mosaic of glass and glue, but water was starting to push through the cracks. He already felt so much lighter.

“That’s why the minute Shiro came back, I ran,” he continued, each word rising like the dawn of his realisation. “Why I took on so many missions with the Blades. I didn’t want to be the leader. I was no good at it. I only ever ended up putting you guys in danger. Or disappointing you. Or hurting you. I thought the team worked so much better without me in it.” A small, sad smile quirked his lips. “I was never much of a team player.” 

The smile faded gradually and Keith’s brow drew low. “You’ve been doing the same thing, right? You’ve been waiting for me to come back, except that’s not what you want. I know you don’t, Lance. I didn’t either. Not really. You love being a paladin. You just don’t want to have to be me.” 

Everything was so clear to Keith now, and it drew up this familiar ache inside of him.

Because _**he knew exactly how it felt**_.

“You couldn’t talk to anyone about it because they’d just tell you, ‘you’re doing fine’. They’d say it was all in your head. No one gets it. No one understands what it’s like to try so hard, but everything you do ends up being an even bigger disaster. But I _**do**_ , Lance. I get it.”

“Keith…” came a broken whisper, but nothing else followed.

“You aren’t me, Lance,” Keith stated, almost shouting the words. “Just because you’re the red paladin now, doesn’t mean you have to be me. I don’t know why you’d want to be after everything I’ve fucked up; the team, you… You’re so much better than me, Lance. I still don’t understand how you can’t see that.”

He heard a dry laugh; more like a cough. “You can’t try to make me feel better by shitting all over yourself, Mullet. Don’t try to be a martyr.”

“I’m not trying to be a martyr – I’m telling you the truth,” said Keith plainly and Lance made a noise that sounded like he was going to argue. But Keith wasn’t done yet.

“Anyone in this Castle could have told you how important you are, Lance. You could easily have made them see how much you needed to hear that, but instead you chose to keep quiet, and I still don’t understand why, because unlike me, you’re usually good at talking about this stuff.”

“I did talk to someone!” cried Lance suddenly, ferociously enough to rival his lion. Keith jolted back from the panel in surprise. “I tried to talk to you, but then you were just gone! How was I supposed to take that, Keith? Was that supposed to show me how much you cared? I told you how I felt and then you fucking ran away!”

Keith stared down at the speakers in shock and before he knew what he was saying, bellowed, “I wasn’t running from you! I was running from myself, okay?! I didn’t know how to be a leader! I didn’t know how I was supposed to make things better!”

“Things were never better with you gone!” Lance screamed, his voice choked with tears.

“I know! I screwed up! Even when I’m not around, I’m still screwing things up!” Keith buried his fingers in his hair, clawing at his scalp to the point that it hurt. “I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t realise – I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I thought you didn’t care,” breathed Lance despondently.

Keith shook his head again, urging himself not to cry. Not yet. 

“I cared; of course, I cared! I just thought that by getting out of your way I’d be making things better for you and it was stupid. I know it was. I should have talked to you about it. I should have talked to anyone. I don’t know if things would have been much different, but at least you’d know why I did it.” His breath shuddered and he could feel each agonising beat of his heart against the hand clenched at his chest. “I tried so hard and all I could think to do was to disappear.”

Keith heard a short, wet sniff, and then so quiet he almost missed it, “I - I didn’t want you to d-disappear…”

A shaky laugh burst from between Keith’s lips and the tears finally spilled over, dropping onto the console as he rocked forward, wobbling over it. “I don’t want you to either.” He wiped his eyes, grounding himself again. “The truth is, I’ve been feeling pretty lonely too. You can be in a room full of people and still feel like you’re all alone. I- I miss you, Lance. I need you to come back to me. I don’t – we don’t function without you. None of us. I shouldn’t have left like that, but you can’t leave us either.”

He straightened up, taking a deep breath to give him the strength for that last push. Thankfully, his voice finally obeyed him.

“Let’s make a pact,” he said firmly, “right now; no more running. We can sort this mess out, Lance, but I need you to do it. Please. Come back.”

The silence was back and it was thicker and heavier than it ever was before. Keith felt as though he was about to suffocate on it, when finally, Lance spoke.

“I’ve let you guys down so much. I’ve let myself down… I don’t know how you guys can even still care about me.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but wasn’t even given a fighting chance. 

"BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!" 

"Pidge?" Lance squeaked in surprise as Keith whipped his head around to find all five of their friends lined up behind him.

“And Hunk,” beamed the boy in question.

“And me, lad,” smiled Coran.

“And me, also,” said Allura strongly.

“And me,” finished Shiro with a smile.

Keith no longer felt like he was suffocating; instead he felt a warmth growing inside of him and spreading out across his limbs. It made him feel stronger and he wondered how he had ever lived without them there, by his side. He never wanted to again. 

He turned back to the intercom. 

“We're all here for you, Lance," he said, letting the warmth filter through his voice.

“And we’re Not. Going. _**Anywhere**_ ,” added Pidge, a _**snap**_ of fire on each syllable.

“Never again,” promised Keith with a smile.

“Yeah,” said Hunk with a choked laugh, shoving the other two away from the intercom, “so you better get back here. We’re well overdue for a group hug and we’re not doing it without you.” 

Keith could feel the tension all around him. The wire, wrapped around his heart.

There was a quiet, tremulous breath from the other side of the line, followed by four short words.

"Okay. I’m coming back." 

The relief was so sudden and effective that Keith thought his legs might be about to give out. Fortunately, he felt a hand on his shoulder, grounding him and he turned to see Shiro’s own relief decorated with pride. 

Then it happened.

Each beat of Keith's heart was a painful stab against the stillness of the rest of his body, making sure that he knew time was moving on despite the fact that he hadn't yet come to grips with what he'd just heard. 

It was a deep boom that shook the air, shook each strand of Keith's hair, even though it came from the other side of the intercom. It was a crackling like a million thunderclaps in the lifespan of a lightning bolt as the com line was interrupted; but the most important thing that Keith heard, the thing that struck ice-cold blades of fear through his poor tired heart, was the agonised cry that blasted over the receiver, right before it cut off. Dead. 

“LANCE!”


	9. Chapter 9, Everything's Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> save him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Heyyyyy, getting close to the end now. Sorry this was late again but that's my last uni deadline gone so I've got more time to work on editing the last couple of chapters now. I can't believe it's almost over XD Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with us and commented, given kudos, or even just read the story. We're reeeeeaaaally hoping we can get the final chapter and the epilogue up before the new season on Friday so wish us luck! Hope you enjoy the chapter! 
> 
> honest_pebble: WELL HEY THERE IT ME AGAIN HOW ARE YOU ALL DOING CUZ I AM TOTALLY (not) FINE MY DUDES  
> Anyway um... I hope all of you enjoy the chapter! Once again floralfatality stressed way too much over this chapter, because really, what else is she supposed to do?  
> Next chapter is gonna delve into some more of those great emotions, everyone’s best friend! So look forward to that?  
> Sorry this is weird I’m just very sleep deprived and hungry  
> Thanks for the lovely comments as always!!

As the scream tore through Keith’s throat, he was dimly aware of other voices joining him, like seeing reflections of himself in a funhouse mirror, some kind of twisted version of his own pain bouncing back at him and amplifying his fear. Everyone immediately sprung into action, diving for the control console. Coran jammed his hand into the mic. button several times but the speaker didn’t let out so much as a _**click**_. Communications – at least for the red lion – were down. 

That was when everything went to chaos.

 

“Oh my God.”

“What’s happening?!”

“Lance, buddy, please!” “Did he crash?!” 

“What happened to the com.?!”

“Is he okay?!” “Why won’t he answer?!”

“Did he-" “What-"

“When-" “Can we-" “How-"

“Why-" “Do we-" “Where-"

“What do we do?!”

 

Keith’s heart pounded in his ears, everyone's panicked voices just a blur of frightened melodies outside of the drumming in his head. They all merged together; a cacophony of questions, not one of them important. No one seemed to want to vocalise the dark thought that had entered all their minds. The one that had been lurking and leering maliciously around every corner of their cognisance ever since Lance had first shut that door on them.

_**What if he…** _

Keith couldn’t even bring himself to think it.

"Paladins!” declared Shiro suddenly, the familiar term cutting through the panic and herding the group’s attention. “Suit-up and get to your lions. We don't know what's out there, but whatever it was, it sounded nasty, so stay alert. Be prepared for a fight.” He rounded on Coran. “Can you get me the coordinates of the red lion?" The advisor gave a nod and turned back to the console, pulling up a collage of luminescent screens.

There was a flurry of activity as everyone scrambled to follow orders, but Keith stayed where he was. He felt suddenly detached, the gossamer threads holding him in connection with his friends snapping on their departure. He didn’t have a lion. There was nowhere for him to go, nothing that he could do. 

“Shiro,” he said weakly. The leader spun around, his frown deepening at the sight of Keith’s expression. “I can’t… I can’t just…” Keith found it hard to get the words out, like they were stuck swimming around his chest, nibbling with tiny sharpened teeth at his terrified heart. He needed to do something. He couldn’t just stand around waiting for the others to find Lance. There was always the possibility that they would come back empty handed, and Keith couldn’t let that happen. 

Suddenly he was overwhelmed by memories of losing Shiro all those phoebs ago. Running into the black lion only to find its paladin had disappeared. Searching and searching for so long that he lost count of the quintants. What if Lance was gone too? There one minute and gone the next. He didn’t think he could handle losing him. He’d lost a lot in his life, but losing Lance…

Lance didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of it. He’d lost his family, his chance to be a teenager, to have a normal life and grow up and be happy. He’d lost who he was, that over-confident annoying ass of a boy who had risked everything to rescue a stranger, simply because he couldn’t let Keith have the satisfaction of doing it first. He’d lost that spark of life that made Keith feel more alive caught in his gaze than he ever had even in the heat of battle, and he’d lost trust in those who loved him to keep that light burning bright. 

Keith wanted nothing more than to see that light again. He wanted to hold Lance in his arms just so that he could be sure he was safe; just to be sure that he couldn’t drift away again. They’d been so close, and now, he could feel it all falling away. The crumbled remains of the walls that Keith had knocked down to let Lance in sat uselessly amongst the dust, offering no protection against the barrage of confused and pained emotions currently pummelling him into the ground. 

He felt a cool hand settle on his shoulder and looked up into the leader’s steely eyes. 

“You’re coming with me,” Shiro said resolutely and Keith gave him a hard but eager nod, following him to the hangar elevator.

Keith tried to focus his energy into getting down to black as quickly as possible, but his mind kept wondering, little hands reaching out to grasp at the anxieties and reel them back in. He hated Lance for making him feel like this; for pulling at his heart-strings so tightly it felt as though the whole instrument might cave in. He hated Lance for not flying back to the Castle when he’d first told him to, because maybe if he had, he’d be safe right now. He hated Lance for leaving the Castle in the first place instead of confronting his feelings and just letting himself talk to them!

_**Huh,**_ Keith thought sardonically, finally, after all this time, being able to draw the lines between the dots. _**Karma’s a bitch.**_

As the cruiser sped along the tunnel, his frustrations – and the list – only grew. 

He also hated Lance because he was an idiot. He hated him because he hadn’t been able to see how much everyone cared about him; because he’d thought, unbelieveably, that Keith _**didn’t**_ care about him. He hated those stupid blue eyes that looked just like those impossibly blue oceans he’d only ever seen in travel magazines, and he hated that he _**knew**_ what those eyes looked like; hated that he knew that wasn’t how they looked anymore and how that almost made him wish he’d never seen them in the first place. 

He hated that he had gotten so close to Lance and then left without consulting him first. He hated that he had left and torn apart whatever kind of friendship they may have had; torn apart the last of Lance’s good faith. He hated that however much he’d tried, no matter how much his heart wanted it in this moment, he might still be too late to save him. 

Unwilling to confront that possibility, Keith shook the thought from his head. 

When he and Shiro finally arrived at the black lion, they found the other paladins waiting for them. They set off immediately, following instructions that Coran relayed through the com. system. As he listened to the chatter back and forth, it only reminded Keith that there was one voice missing, but instead of allowing his grief to swallow him, he focused on the little red dot on the navigation system, staring so long that he saw it behind his eye lids every time he blinked; little crimson droplets in his vision, making his stomach squirm with dread. 

He gripped Shiro’s chair as the lion took a sharp turn around a cluster of meteoroids. 

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” he said in irritation, banging a fist impatiently onto the chair head.

“Relax, Keith,” replied Shiro, not looking away from the monitor. “we’ll get to him.”

“Well, can we get to him faster?!” he fumed. Anxiety was bubbling beneath his skin, but he was gritting it down, willing it to stay dormant for now. He wouldn’t let himself feel scared again – he couldn’t let himself become paralysed – so in its stead, brewed anger, and that was much easier to cope with, though, unfortunately for Shiro, much more vocal.

“Remember what I told you, Keith,” said the leader. “Patience yields –"

“I am focused,” snapped Keith. “Focused on getting Lance out of there before he –"

Keith couldn’t finish that sentence. He bit down hard on his bottom lip and pushed away from the pilot’s chair, taking a few short, hard paces. Shiro’s brow furrowed.

“We’re not going to let that happen, Keith.”

“Shiro, it’s my fault,” he groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, watching the little dots pulse mockingly. “He was just following my shitty example. Of all the times to make me his role-model...”

“He’s always looked up to you,” remarked Shiro, “as far back as the Garrison from what I hear.”

“I’m not someone to be looked up to!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands out in exasperation. “Lance is the one who’s always there for people, who goes out of his way to make them happy; apparently so fucking far out of his way that he can’t even be on the same ship with them anymore.” Keith kicked the seat and the cockpit rumbled cantankerously.

Shiro smiled a little, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think me and Black would both appreciate it if you would stop taking it out on the chair.”

“Oh, don’t worry. The moment I get my hands on that moron I’m gonna – I – I’m –"

Images swam into Keith’s head – images he hadn’t been expecting nor welcoming of considering the circumstances – and Keith’s cheeks felt hot for more than one reason. Shiro spared a glance his way before fixing his eyes forward again, shaking his head with a sad smirk. 

“W-What’re you looking at?” Keith snipped quietly, crossing his arms over, eyes still wide with enraged bewilderment at his own completely inappropriate thoughts. Now was _**not**_ the time. What the Hell? Where did that even –? Why –?

Keith’s somewhat flustered brooding was fortunately interrupted by Coran’s voice flowing over the speaker.

“Paladins. I think I’ve discovered the source of the problem.”

“I see it, Coran,” replied Pidge immediately. “I just found it on the scanners.”

“What, what?!” fretted Hunk. “What’s going on?!”

“ _ **Massive**_ electrical disturbances down on the nearest planet,” she said. “We’re talking, like, over 100 million volts of potential here.”

“One good zap would be enough to take you _**and**_ your lion out of commission,” explained Coran almost grudgingly.

“Wait,” said Keith, stepping back over to the front of the cockpit, “you’re telling me Lance got struck by lightning?”

“In _**Space**_?!” added Hunk incredulously.

“No, not _**in**_ Space,” retorted Pidge in irritation. “Lightning doesn’t work like that –"

“Is this really the time, Pidge?” lectured Shiro, rubbing the bridge of his nose, face tense with aggravation. Keith frowned at the uncharacteristic bite in his tone.

“Is there any way we can fly in there safely, Coran?” demanded Allura.

“Dumb luck?” he offered. They could hear the shrug in his voice.

They quickly came to the site they were warned of. If not for their sensors alerting them that they’d just flown into an atmosphere, they might have shot straight into it. The planet was completely obscured by thick black clouds, causing it to blend perfectly into the dark background of space. Every few ticks a flash would illuminate the area, filling the clouds with bright white-blue veins and lilac tones. Keith’s eyes fell back on that little crimson dot.

“We need a plan,” he announced. 

There were a few ticks of silence in which everyone was awaiting orders. Keith turned to the man next to him. “Uh, Shiro?”

Shiro’s gaze snapped suddenly away from the clouds and to Keith. “Sorry. I was just…” He grimaced, looking back towards the monitor and squeezing his eyes shut. Keith looked at him with concern. Was he freezing up? When had Shiro ever just – 

“What’s going on?” asked Allura with concern.

An idea grabbed a hold of him like an Unilu brain-worm.

“Allura,” he said hurriedly, “can you use your bayard upgrade to pin down the red lion’s exact position?”

There was a brief pause. “I should be able to –"

“Do it,” he ordered. 

“Just a tick,” came her reply and he watched as the sonar system glowed into existence on top of Blue. The view became distorted as powerful waves were thrown into the mist and then there was an excited shout of, “There!”

“Good,” said Keith, adrenaline flooding his veins now, his fists shaking with anticipation. “Send those coordinates to the green lion. Pidge, I want you to plot a course for the black lion according to areas of least elec-"

“Hold on,” interrupted the green paladin, “why the black lion? Green’s the smallest and therefore, least likely to get hit.”

“You’re too slow,” retorted Keith sourly, “not to mention, too small to carry another lion.”

“My lion’s perfectly agile, thank you!” she screeched back, completely missing the point.

“Not as agile as Blue,” stated the princess adamantly. _**Seriously?**_ He’d have thought he could at least rely on the princess to - 

“They’re right, Pidge,” interjected Hunk. “The green lion is better for stealth and your camouflage isn’t gonna stop lightning. But I think I should get to go, ‘cos Yellow can take more of a beating than the other lions.”

“Perhaps a physical beating,” pointed out Allura, “but electrical attacks are more potent against a mechanical enemy.”

“Which is why we go with probability over skill,” said Pidge in frustration.

“Guys, just shut up!” said Keith, his temper rising in his voice. He knew any one of them would risk their life to save Lance – would risk their lives so that none of the others would have to do so themselves – but in their passion, they seemed to be forgetting the urgency of the situation. “Besides Red, Black is the fastest and the most agile, not to mention he can carry the extra weight no problem. This isn’t some popularity contest; it’s Lance’s life on the line! Quit arguing, and Pidge, plot me that course!”

He didn’t waste time listening to their mumbled apologies, and they didn’t waste time disobeying him again. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to lead a team. Half a dobosh and he was already exhausted.

“Shiro!” The paladin in question jerked up from his bent over position, rubbing his temples. “Pidge is sending you a flight path. Think you can follow it?” Shiro regarded him strangely for a moment before giving a firm nod, hands stretching back out to the controls. Honestly, at this point, Keith’s arms were itching to grab the controls himself.

The directions blinked up on the monitor and they set off into the storm, anxious “good luck”s spurring them on. Keith felt the itch in his arms alleviate now that they were moving, but his heart was still reaching out in the direction of the red paladin, tethered to his chest on a chord about ready to snap. Everything just felt too slow, like they were trying to run the wrong way up an escalator and the top just kept getting further and further away the harder they tried. He couldn’t see anything through the clouds. All he could do was stare anxiously at the monitor and pray they’d make it through without any problems. The air was so charged that Keith could feel it, his arm hair standing on end; or perhaps that was due to the icy fear running through his blood. 

All was calm for a few ticks – or at least as calm as Keith could be at that moment – until the black lion rolled suddenly to the side, narrowly avoiding a bolt of electricity. Keith cried out, clinging to the pilot’s chair. 

“Pidge!” he shrieked.

“It’s not my fault!” she retorted, though her voice was distorted by static. “I can’t control the weather!”

“Hold on!” Shiro yelled, as if it wasn’t obvious, and dipped heavily to the right. That took them even further away from Lance than when they’d started and Keith clenched his jaw, his eyes darting back and forth between the bright red dot on the screen and the furious whirling of the clouds ahead.

“In hindsight,” Pidge mused aloud, “we probably shouldn’t have sent the _**biggest**_ lion into an electrical storm. You’re basically a magnet for blasts.”

“Not now, Pidge,” Shiro grunted as he yanked the controls to the left to avoid another shot.

“Ugh, I feel queasy just listening to it,” moaned Hunk, although it wasn’t hard to miss the tremble in his voice.

Suddenly, the screen cleared, revealing a surface of dusky violet rock, littered with inky black pools of liquid. Resting at the edge of one of those pools, was the red lion.

“There, Shiro!”

“I see him,” he said, rubbing his eye frustratedly with a fist and blinking at the scene ahead.

They came careening into the vicinity of the lion and Keith’s heart gave a hollow thud, jumping up into his throat as they pulled up. His nails dug into the pilot’s seat as they twisted into a dive and he jerked backwards as Black latched onto Red’s metal scruff.

“We got him,” declared Shiro, and Keith felt the collective sigh of relief from the paladins blow through him, leaving him bristling with apprehension. He wanted to get out right then and there, leap out onto his old lion and slide into the cockpit where Lance would be waiting. He just needed to see him. He needed to know he was okay. Please let him be okay. After everything, _**please**_ just let him be alive.

Keith was barely present during their escape, his mind having grown foggy with the exhaustion of a sudden reprieve. He was aware of the flickering in some distant corner of his vision and how each time it lit up, he started with a shock. He could vaguely feel the complaints in the joints of his fingers as he clutched the head-rest far too hard; but really all he could think about was the last time he’d seen Lance. It felt like phoebs but really it had only been a few vargas. Still, the Lance he’d argued with on the training deck; that wasn’t the real Lance. He missed him. He missed him so much that he wished he could tear Lance’s soul from the paladin in his memories and give it back to him. He wanted to see him smile again. He wanted to see that mischievous smirk and that smug simper and that blinding grin that made him feel fuller than whole. Lance was like fire in the artic, and Keith just wanted to feel warm again.

When they finally reached the rest of the team, they wasted no time in making their way back to the Castle. As it came into view, Keith watched as the ship grew closer, a lighthouse in the blackness around them. His heart fluttered more violently with each tick he had to wait and even as the bay door opened to let them in, Keith was already darting for the black lion’s exit. Shiro called out to him but Keith wasn’t listening, sliding out from between Black’s jaws before they’d even touched down in the hangar. 

He landed heavily on the red lion’s head, grunting through the shockwaves that rattled in his shins, and quickly manoeuvred his way down to the opening at the mouth, slipping inside and rushing for the cockpit.

“Lance! Lance, are you okay?!” he called out desperately as he found his way to the darkened room. Running inside, he tripped over Lance’s helmet, discarded on the floor, and was sent stumbling gracelessly towards the front of the pilot’s chair, managing to twist and catch himself before he face-planted.

His breath died in his throat. 

His heart gave one agonisingly heavy thump. 

His legs carried him forward and his knees gave out and he dropped next to the chair, his hands drifting up to cup Lance’s face as his prickling eyes ran over the paladin’s lax features in despair.

“Lance, wake up!” he cried fiercely, feeling the little pin-pricks driving further into his eyes, but there was no response. He was so _**still**_. His skin looked terrifyingly pale against the bruise-like circles around his eyes and he just _**didn’t move**_.

Keith’s fingers fumbled at Lance’s neck, feeling for a pulse, but they were too clumsy. He ripped his glove off between his teeth but he couldn’t stop the shaking, his fingers feeling almost numb. He wanted to scream at them.

His vision was pulsing like his mind was trying to draw him back from this reality, but he couldn’t let go, because Lance was his anchor, and right now, he was a dead weight.

He became aware of the voices shouting at him over the intercom.

“Keith, is he okay?”

“Keith, answer us!”

“Keith, please!”

He unclenched his teeth and parted his lips. His mouth was so dry.

“I don’t know. He’s not- I can’t find-" A coughed sob escaped without his permission and he took in a shaky breath, trying to control himself. “I don’t know what to do,” he said helplessly, bringing both hands up to either side of the paladin’s face again, willing him to open his eyes. 

His skin was too cold; or were Keith’s hands too hot? He ran his fingers through the short tufts of brown hair, feeling the charred ends scratch against his skin.

_**Please, don’t be. You can’t be.** _

“Keith.” He heard Shiro’s voice over the receiver. “We can’t get in while the red lion is deactivated. You need to bring him out here if you can.”

“But…”

Keith couldn’t make the words come. They were too horrible.

_**It wouldn’t matter if Lance was already gone.** _

He stared back at Lance’s face, muting his communication device. He didn’t want to hear them shouting at him anymore, asking him to save their friend, to bring him out safe and sound. He couldn’t take the sound of voices breaking and distraught sobs, or desperate screams for reassurances he couldn’t give. 

Keith felt hot tears finally spill over his cheeks. He couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn't go through having to say goodbye to someone again; of not even having a chance to say goodbye. He couldn’t imagine being able to pull himself through that grief again or coming to terms with all the emotions that had threatened to devour him. He'd had to do it with his dad and then with Shiro _**twice**_. He couldn't do it again. He wouldn’t.

He wouldn't let Lance die. He wasn't allowed to. This boy did _**not**_ get to die before him. Not because of some stupid fight. Not because of anything. Keith wouldn't allow it. 

"Lance, wake up, you asshole!” he shouted, his tongue flicking like flames, tasting salt on the end from the tears that had reached his lips. “You don't get to die, not yet!" He resisted the urge to shake the unconscious paladin like a ragdoll and instead screamed his frustration, letting his head fall onto Lance’s chest, his hands slipping down from Lance’s pale cheeks and over his hard jaw, burrowing needily behind the back of his neck. He clung to the boy, feeling as though his own heart might splutter out a few short last beats and send him to join his dear friend in oblivion.

That was when he felt it. Just ever so slightly. A combination of sensations. The tickle of his hair bristling against his neck and the strain of muscles as his head was lifted slowly up and down. _**Lance was breathing**_. 

Keith let out a short laugh like jittery butterflies flapping from his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be sick or just keep on crying. He was alive. He was _**alive**_.

He pulled Lance even closer, till their hearts were pressed together and he sobbed, all of the terror and horror that had been floating above him liquifying and dropping down on him, drenching him in heady relief. He drew back a few inches, his grin never faltering as he quickly switched the com. device on again.

“Guys, he’s breathing,” he said in elation, dragging a sleeve across his face.

“Oh thank quiznak,” he heard Hunk say, his voice thick with tears. Keith ignored any follow up questions, knowing that even if Lance wasn’t dead, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a possibility. What did he know about electric shocks? He knew they were dangerous; that they could be fatal. 

The thought made him feel heavy. He’d just gotten Lance back. He didn’t want to lose him again. Not ever. 

He had to focus on getting them out of here. 

He left a palm resting against Lance’s chest plate, the steady rise and fall reminding him of the tide, pushing him towards a golden shore in which everything would be alright. With new strength in his weary heart, Keith forced himself to his feet, despite the jelly legs he’d acquired from the recent emotional rollercoaster, and carefully scooped Lance up into his arms. He was so light. Keith knew that he wasn’t this light the last time he’d cradled him like this and it made him sad, which in turn made him laugh. It was ridiculous that such a little thing could still affect him with everything that had happened, but Keith couldn’t help it. Every little thing about Lance, every little quirk and smile and _**breath**_ was important to him.

“Red,” he uttered, his eyes picking out each individual eyelash, waiting for them to flutter even an inch, “if you’re listening, I need your help.” He looked up at the ceiling as if that would help him transfer the message somehow. “You need to wake up and let us out. Please.” He reached out with his consciousness, trying to find the connection he once shared with the lion. It was still there. He could feel it ebbing somewhere far away yet somewhere so close. “We need to save him.” 

There were a few moments of silence and then Keith heard a whirring sound. The red lion stuttered back to life and let out an anguished roar. 

“Yes!” burst Keith, immediately hurrying for the exit, holding Lance as close as possible as he sped down the ramp and over to his team-mates. 

“Coran is preparing a pod,” said Allura, looking down at Lance in concern. “We should hurry.” 

As they headed towards the infirmary, Keith noticed the way his friends instinctively gathered around the two of them, despite the fact that no harm could come to them now in the castle halls. He looked down again at Lance’s face and his brow creased with sorrow. How could Lance ever have doubted that they loved him?

His mind was still a swirl of emotions and he couldn’t grasp control. He was starting to feel ill just from the sheer weight of it all. He just wanted it to stop. He needed time to breathe. He just wanted to feel- to be happy. If there was one emotion he could use a good dosing of right now, it was happiness. He’d felt that when he'd met Shiro, when they’d grown close; but then it had disappeared into Space along with him. He had found it again when he’d became a part of Voltron, but then that had disappeared too when Keith had left them all behind. Now, he just wanted to be happy again, and he knew he needed Lance to live for that. Maybe he sounded selfish for saying it, but Keith didn’t want to keep doing this without him. What was the point of saving the universe if you can’t save the ones you love?

"Nnghhh..." 

Keith didn’t have long to ponder on that last thought as his attention shot down towards the noise. His eyes widened and a short gasp slipped past his lips when he saw that incredible glistening blue peering back at him through cracked eyelids.

“Lance?” he choked, stopping in his tracks and feeling someone smack into him from behind. The paladins all started to bustle around him, clammering to ask Lance if he was okay and Keith felt like they were being smothered. 

“Guys, give him some space!” he yelled. He unapologetically pushed past Allura and Pidge and stepped over to the side of the corridor where he gently placed the dazed paladin down against the wall. He backed up a little, following his own advice, but kept a hand on Lance’s shoulder to steady him. His eyes never left Lance’s face. 

The blue paladin seemed a little out of it, his eyes sweeping lazily over the scene before him. It reminded Keith of how he’d looked after their battle with Sendak. Keith hoped this conversation wouldn’t end the same way, memories of fear and panic fighting pointlessly for purchase where those emotions were already reigning strong.

“Lance,” Keith repeated worriedly and the paladin’s eyes flickered over to meet Keith’s.

"Wha-" Lance's voice was croaky. “Keith?” Keith felt like his heart had stopped at the quiet sound of his name, although, ironically, it was like the breath of life, awakening so much of… something… within him that he felt like he could live a thousand deca-phoebs.

“Yeah, it’s me, Lance. I’m right here,” he said quietly; just for the two of them. His hand drifted down to cup his arm, squeezing it reassuringly. Lance tried to shift in his seat but Keith stopped him from trying to get up, his other hand coming to rest in the crook of Lance’s neck, fingers brushing the warm skin. He could feel a pulse now. It was going crazy.

“Take it easy there,” said Keith, worried about his heart-rate. Had the blast caused that? “You were electrocuted. Do you remember that?” He spoke slowly and gently, hoping that the words were working themselves into Lance’s addled brain. 

Lance blinked at him a few times, perhaps trying to clear his head. 

“Y-yeah, I think so,” he breathed, eyes fixed on Keith’s with equal intensity. Keith almost felt as if he might fall into those eyes, diving deep below the surface where he could gather up the dark slicks that infected that brilliantly pure soul. He felt something tugging him forward, but he managed to stop himself. Something else was holding him back; maybe the confusion illustrated in the crease of Lance’s brow, or the stiffness of his muscles underneath Keith’s hands. 

Lance’s few short words drew out a sigh from the others, pulling his attention away and promptly snapping any and all of whatever it was that had been building between him and Keith. Keith was left feeling a little hollow, like his glass had been snatched away just short of being filled.

“At least he still has cognitive function,” observed Pidge, tilting her head, her brows furrowed with thoughtful concern. Keith looked around and saw similar expressions upon the other paladins’ faces, with the addition of a layer of tears soaking Hunk’s, his bottom lip trembling and fists balled as he was clearly trying not to lunge forward and gather Lance in a huge bear hug. When Keith looked back at Lance, even he wore the same expression; troubled, and maybe a little sad.

"You okay?" Keith asked. Lance didn’t reply immediately and Keith’s heart beat was doing a river dance, his grip tightening almost unnoticeably on Lance’s arm. He was about to ask again when Lance’s eyes flickered in his direction and Keith had to remember how to breathe. _**God**_ , he’d missed those eyes.

He saw the beginnings of a weak smile pull at the paladin’s lips. 

"Yeah, it was just a bit of a shock, y’know? I'm feeling pretty amped up now though.”

_**What.** _

_**Did he…** _

_**Did he just…** _

Anger flared in Keith, heat building in his face, breath coming faster. For a good twenty doboshes, Keith had thought Lance might be dead. For twenty doboshes, he’d felt all the painful memories of his past rushing up to meet him, to spit in his face. He’d spent twenty doboshes holding back tears and feeling like his chest might burst, and this boy, had the nerve – the audacity – after months of silence and isolation, to make a goddamned pun?! 

He raised his fist, grabbing Lance's armoured chest, but just as he was about to land the blow, Hunk’s big hands wrapped around his biceps and he was yanked backwards. Lance stared with big eyes. Big, stupid, beautiful, blue eyes.

“Keith, calm down!” commanded Shiro, his metal hand pressing into Keith’s chest to hold him back. Tears were so close to escaping, but he refused to let Lance see that. He refused to give him the satisfaction after that stupid move.

"You could've died out there, you idiot,” he roared, “and you’re making freaking jokes?!" 

“I’m sorry!” stammered Lance, feeling regret filter in. “I was just trying to lighten the mood!” he fretted.

He heard a short, stiff gasp of constricted laughter. “Don’t you mean _**lightning**_ the mood?” asked Pidge, and when he looked up at her, a smile wobbled onto her face and she pushed a hand beneath her glasses to wipe her eyes. She hastened over and dropped to his side, enveloping him in a hug.

“I’m really glad you’re not dead,” she sniffed, burying her face in his arm. Lance winced as his muscles flared with pain, but he didn’t stop her. He felt his own eyes stinging.

“You know what?” he chuckled wearily, “Me tooOOHWOAH!” He was cut off as Hunk barrelled into his side, taking them both down.

“Hunk, you’re squashing us!” laughed Pidge.

“Sorry,” he moaned pitifully, “I just really love you guys.”

“I love you too, Hunk,” Lance replied, tears streaming down his face now. _**Dios**_ , what had he done? His brain kept telling him to pull away, that he didn’t deserve this; but for once, he told it to shut up, because even if he didn’t, they did. 

“I’m so sorry guys,” he hiccupped. “I’m sorry for all the things I said and I’m sorry for - I didn’t mean for – I’m sorry I let it –"

“Can it,” said Pidge, a hint of anger in her voice. “We’re not gonna let you blame yourself for this. Not right now.” Lance tried to wrangle his sobs before he could suffocate, nodding gently and letting himself fall back weakly against the wall as they released him from the hug.

“Is Red okay?” he sniffed. “I didn’t…”

“He’s fine,” answered Allura, her own opulent eyes brimming with tears as her lips curved upwards. “He woke up a few doboshes before you.”

Lance instantly relaxed and he drew a hand across his cheek to clear the moisture stinging his face. “Thank you, guys. Really.” He wished he could say so much more, but they didn’t seem interested in his apologies right now, and he was absolutely exhausted. Every inch of him was throbbing and he just wanted to sleep. 

He let his eyes drift shut and immediately felt stiff claws digging into his arm.

"Wait, no, buddy! Lance, stop! Don't go into the light! Open your eyes, man! Stay with us!" 

"Hey, calm down, Hunk. I'm just tired," he mumbled amusedly. 

"Lad, I know you want to rest, but I don’t think a healing pod would go amiss here,” Coran prompted. The red paladin nodded, too tired to argue. He was done fighting them. He was done fighting himself.

Hunk helped him up, slinging Lance's arm over his shoulder to help him walk.

As the group made their way to the healing pod bay, Keith was left on his knees in the hallway, staring at the opposite wall, his heart still pounding. His own words echoed in his head. 

_**“You could've died.”** _

It was so true that it scared him. It reminded him that at any moment in this war, one of them could die. It could have been so much worse than what it was now. Lance could have _**actually**_ died. He might never have seen Lance make that smile for Pidge, or heard the laugh in his voice at Hunk’s dramatics, or heard him tell that stupid joke simply to try and put his friends at ease. He might never have seen those wonderful azure irises glitter with bittersweet tears, or heard him say his name like it was the most beautiful word in the world. They might never have shared those few ticks of intensity that had made Keith feel like maybe he would never be alone again.

Oh my _**God**_ , he had it bad.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp poke in the head. Keith looked up at Pidge who was staring at him with curiosity.

"Are you sure _**you're**_ okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, knowing that if he didn’t, she’d see right through him. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You can talk to him once he’s out of the pod. Until then, you’re going to have to at least pretend to be functional, got it?”

He frowned at her in confusion. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry." 

She smiled at him as if what he’d said was somehow funny, then stuck out a hand to help him up. He took it and then they both followed in the direction of the other paladins.

Pidge sang something under her breath that he pretended not to have heard. 

"Keith and Lance, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Oh whaddya know, a happy ending for once in this fic! Who noticed the forshadowing hehe?  
> Also the puns this chapter are courtesy of honest_pebble so if you wanna slap her, go ahead; I won't stop you.
> 
> P.S. Science is hard I'm sorry if it made no sense *sweats nervously*  
> P.P.S. Archive formatting is hard so I had to cut out my artsy formatting and I am peeved.


	10. Chapter 10, My Patient Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to talk.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, PTSD (I think? Just trying to be safe), blood (metaphorical blood, but blood all the same)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: HIIIIII, WE'RE NOT DEAD!  
> First of all, sorry this chapter took so long to come out. Basically, the chapter we had already written didn't really fit the story anymore because this story has grown and changed so much during the editing and posting process, so we decided to re-write it. This proved to be harder than we were expecting. I've had major writer's block over the last three months and haven't been able to write anything (I worked on this chapter at least twice a week for three and a half months; it was just so difficult, dude, I don't know what else to say). But here we are! Finally we have the ending we deserve, and I really hope you guys like it because we slaved and toiled over it. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with us the whole way through this and I hope that this is worth the wait!  
> Also, quick note: The longest chapter of this fic so far was chapter 7, I think. That was just under 9,000 words. This is just under 17,000. I'm sorry it's so long but it was the only way to get in everything that needed to be there. I would advise taking a break after the first section in Keith's POV if you don't want to read it all at once, because after that there isn't really a great place to stop.  
> And with that, happy reading! Thank you so much for all the support and again, I hope it was worth the wait! 
> 
> honest_pebble: Eyyy madlads! It's ya boi back again with another chapter! Sorry it's been so long, but writer's block is a bitch. Anyway, this chapter is uhhh... pretty long, so we hope it makes up for the wait.  
> This chapter is pretty crazy so... 'Honey, you've got a big storm comin'' >:3  
> Also, me re-reading this chapter was just that vine where the guy trips over and he's just crying because his spaghetti fell out of his pocket, except instead of spaghetti, it's my emotional stability.  
> Enjoy!

The night passed like a story in a flipbook, time moving with perfect fluidity in front of Keith’s eyes, yet cut with jarring flashes of stagnancy as the events of the previous day burst, snarling, back into his stream of thought. He let his head fall back against the empty pod behind him as his eyes followed the line of his legs up to the occupied one just across the blanket-strewn floor.

The team had all known they needed rest, but after the near heart-attack they had suffered from the recent actions of their red paladin, they were reluctant to let him out of their sight. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere, sleeping peacefully – for what Keith assumed was the first time in movements judging by the darkness rimming his eyes – as the pod patched up his few minor injuries, but it felt wrong to leave him alone so soon after promising that they would stay by his side.

So, that was how team Voltron plus one solitary Marmora agent had ended up clustered together on the healing-deck floor, squashed between two pods along with an assortment of pillows and blankets gathered from every corner of the Castle. At one point, Hunk had suggested building a fort, but the structure only had to collapse twice before they gave up. Nobody was really in the mood to keep on trying. They were so drained, the last dregs of adrenaline having long since dripped from their veins and the darkness of the room falling over them like a fuzzy blanket, making it harder and harder to keep their drooping lids open.

Keith couldn’t sleep though. Even if he’d wanted to, his head was too alive with clips of thoughts and memories. It was like standing in the middle of a crowd, yet every time he reached out to tap on someone’s shoulder, to ask them what was going on or what he should do, he was shoved in the opposite direction, and so, he went, back and forth, spinning and crashing like a bumper car, never quite finding an answer. Was there an answer? Situations like this can’t exactly be patched up like a scratch on his hover-bike back home.

Home. It was strange, but after so long in Space, he wasn’t sure he really considered his little desert-shack home anymore. Honestly, he wasn’t sure it ever had been. He wasn’t sure he’d had a home at all since his Dad had died. Not until the Castle, at least. There was no denying that this place had become a big part of his life, that the people in it meant so much more to him than anything on Earth ever could. Here, he had Shiro who supported him and believed in him just as he had always done since the day they first met. He had Hunk who had played a big part in helping him accept his newfound heritage and Pidge whose enthusiasm and motivation was inspiring all on its own, even without considering her insane intellect on top of that. The princess and Coran had welcomed them into their home, trained them, encouraged them, fought by their sides, and above all helped to bring them all together, and despite all the ups and downs of their Space adventure, despite all the trials and struggles, he would never be able to bring himself to do anything other than thank them for it. 

And then there was Lance.

If he had told himself a deca-phoeb ago that he’d be pining this hard over a boy whose first instinct was usually to insult him, he’d probably have thrown himself into a healing pod for lack of a psychiatric ward; but things change, people change, feelings change. 

Granted, Keith wasn’t an idiot, and despite popular opinion, he was rather in touch with his emotions; he just chose to ignore them more often than not. Maybe that wasn’t exactly healthy – Shiro had certainly pointed that out enough times – but it was a lot easier than dealing with them. That’s probably why every time he’d caught himself staring at the red paladin or felt his heart flutter at his words or felt his fingertips itch with the desire to touch him, he’d pushed the feeling away, put it down to loneliness and perhaps a hint of touch starvation and continued on like nothing was wrong. Nothing had changed.

But things change. People change. Feelings change.

Keith’s eyes wandered up to Lance’s face. The neon glow of the pod was harsh against the darkness outside and caught on the sharp and hollow edges of Lance’s cheeks like chipped paint, making him look even more pale and sickly than he had before. The stillness was unsettling. Keith could still see the bruised shadows around his eyes like empty eye-sockets and feel the coldness of Lance’s skin under his clammy palms as he had begged for it not to be too late, begged for Lance to wake up because he hadn’t known what he was going to do if he didn’t.

Keith dropped his gaze to the floor, unwilling to contemplate that possibility any longer. It was fine. Lance was fine.

But Lance wasn’t fine. Lance was the furthest thing from fine and Keith couldn’t help but wonder, if he hadn’t left…

No, that was stupid. He’d had to go. Maybe if he had stopped working with the Blade of Marmora, yeah, things might have worked out differently, might have worked out better, even; but there was no way he could have done that. The Blade was his only link to his mother, to finding out who he was, and it was his most immediate way of making a difference in this war. He wasn’t cut out to be a leader. He wasn’t ready to give himself to the position like Shiro was. He had too many unanswered questions spinning around in his head and too many reasons to doubt himself. Joining the Blades had been the best thing he could have done at the time. He just wished he could have done it under better circumstances.

He’d seen the way that Lance had looked when he’d come to him looking for advice, seen his fingers poised like tally marks against his own name and eyes that oozed self-deprecation so uncharacteristic to Lance that Keith had almost wondered if it was a joke. He should have known by the slump of his shoulders and exhaustion in his tone that Lance was being haunted by the same old beast that had been curled around Keith’s neck ever since Shiro’s latest disappearance. Keith had been so obsessed with trying to be what Shiro wanted him to be – what his team needed him to be – that he hadn’t realised that maybe Lance was feeling just as uncomfortable about his own new position. 

Maybe if he’d said something more to reassure him, or if he’d explained the real reason that he had to go – that it wasn’t just a matter of him not being “meant” to pilot the black lion or a mission to infiltrate quintessence supply lines – maybe then, they could have avoided some of this heartache. Maybe the two of them could have talked about all of this sooner, before it got out of hand. Maybe the two of them wouldn’t have had to feel so alone.

Keith wandered distantly if Lance had ever wished for him to come home like Keith had for Shiro.

He let out a breath of air like a scoff as soon as he caught himself. Lance wouldn’t have wanted him back. He’d thought that Keith didn’t care. That’s what he’d said, in the tiniest, most crestfallen tone Keith had ever heard, and even thinking about it made Keith’s heart clench so tight he thought it might swallow itself. How could Keith not care, after everything Lance had done for him? How could he not care when throughout every screw up and every bad call, Lance had stuck by him and supported him, called him out and kept him on the right track? If it weren’t for Lance, Keith would have given up a lot sooner, and then where would they be? Would they have found Shiro at all? Would Zarkon have fallen? Would Keith still have all those people who had made him a home?

Keith let out a soft grunt, dropping his face into his palms and rubbing his eyes until his vision swirled like oil slicks behind closed lids. None of this mattered. It didn’t matter what might have happened or what could have been. What mattered now was the boy in that pod and how much Keith wanted him to be okay, how much he wanted to pay him back for every good thing he’d ever done, not just for Keith and for the team, but for everyone he came across. 

Lance didn’t deserve to feel this way. He didn’t deserve the doubts or the loneliness. Lance was one of the best people he’d ever met. He hid it behind quips and jabs and flirtations, but the fact was that beneath all that, Lance had the best heart Keith had ever known, and he lived for other people, lived to make them happy. Lance deserved to be as happy as he made other people. He deserved the same kind of love and support for himself that he dished out like servings of food-goo on a daily basis. Keith wanted to be the one to remind him of that. He wanted to be the one to _**give**_ him that. He felt like he owed him as much, but more than that, Keith had so much that he could give him, so much that he felt like he was overflowing, the emotions pushing up against his chest so hard that it _**hurt**_.

And it hurt to think about how close they’d come to losing Lance. It hurt to think about him as Keith had done on those lonely nights in the Marmora bunker, and to be so far away from him; and yet, it hurt even more to come back and to be so close again, yet somehow still too far to reach him. It hurt to think about that easy smile that Keith had been missing for phoebs, and the tiny crinkles at the corners of Lance’s eyes that always appeared whenever he threw his head back in laughter, and the ridiculous jokes and smarmy comments that never failed to light a fire inside Keith’s chest, a fire that rose through his face into the tips of his ears and left him always unsure of whether he wanted to punch the boy or kiss him. 

What hurt the most was that he knew the answer to that question, and he also knew exactly the reason he could never do it. 

So, for now, he would just have to be happy with what he had, because so long as Lance was okay, it didn’t matter how Keith felt. He would suck it up and focus on being the best he could be for Lance, because both of them needed each other right now. Keith may have been the one to bring Lance home, but Lance had been the one to make Keith realise that maybe he would be allowed to come home too.

“Hey, you alright?”

Keith tore his thoughts away from the bittersweet daydream, turning to watch Shiro rub the sleep from his eyes. 

It must have been early morning by this point and most of the team had drifted off into a deeper slumber now, after a night punctuated only by quiet chatter and the occasional fitful nap. 

Hunk was slouched against Lance’s pod, snoring softly like a lawnmower on its last legs, and Pidge was slumped against him, mouth open and glasses slipping down the side of her face. Allura and Coran were curled up on his other side, the elder Altean mumbling sleepily under his breath with every other exhale and the princess’ brow furrowed as if she were making battle plans even in her sleep. 

Keith had almost forgotten they were there, too wrapped up in his own head and the sharp and unforgiving ridges of Lance’s face to pay them much notice. He longed to draw his thumb across the tense lines of the paladin’s brow, to smooth away the creases and erase the cold solitude that clung there like a defence. He wondered, with a guilty kind of helplessness, if Lance would ever let him.

“Keith?”

Keith hummed questioningly, looking back towards his pseudo-brother to meet a look of concern.

“Oh. Yeah,” he muttered, remembering that Shiro had asked him a question. “I’m fine.”

Shiro nodded slowly as if that was the answer he had expected, but that didn’t mean he was particularly convinced.

“If you want to talk about anything,” he suggested carefully, “now might be a good time.” He tipped his head, gesturing towards to pile of their friends in order to indicate that this was probably as much privacy as they were going to get for a little while now.

Keith sighed, shifting his position to get the blood flowing in his legs again. He knew better than to pretend he was okay; not when Shiro was pushing it like this – and he was pushing, in his annoyingly subtle, Shiro-like way. He always knew when something was up, and he was almost irritatingly intuitive when it came to Keith. He always knew exactly when to step in, exactly when Keith was feeling fit to burst and needed an outlet before the frustration coiled down into his fists and sprung free on some poor unsuspecting bystander. Luckily, Keith had come a long way since the days of taking out his problems on the nearest target, although, he caught himself restlessly flexing his fingers quite often in moments such as these. In fact, he noticed he was doing it now, which, no doubt, was what had alerted Shiro in the first place. 

Keith wasn’t sure what to say. There was no point talking about Lance anymore. He knew it wouldn’t make him feel any better and would most likely just get him more worked up. Shiro was still watching him warily – eerily – and thankfully, something slithered to the forefront of Keith’s mind, something that had been lingering in the background ever since the rescue mission.

“What happened to you, Shiro, back in the lion?” he asked cautiously. “You just… froze.”

The leader’s eyes flashed with something, the light fading as quickly as it appeared and draining them almost to black. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before giving in, taking a resigned breath and staring up at the ceiling as he slumped back against the pod.

“Something’s not right with me, Keith,” he said lowly, his expression heavy with a dark apprehension.

Keith felt a familiar stab of fear in his chest and immediately bolted upright. 

“It’s not your muscles, is it? You’re not –"

“No, it’s not that,” Shiro cut him off before his panic could escalate any further. “The one good thing to come out of my imprisonment with the Galra – the first time,” he added with a touch of dry humour – “was that they repaired whatever damage had been done by the disease and then cured it completely.”

Keith let himself relax a little at that, tilting back and taking a short moment to study the look of foreboding still pasted across his brother’s face before prompting, “Then… what?” 

“I don’t know,” Shiro sighed in defeat. “Sometimes… it’s like I’m not in control. Like I’m…” A strange look came over him. “Like I’m not myself,” he finished quietly, his eyes falling on Lance’s pod across from them.

Keith followed his gaze and it took a moment for the significance to register. 

“That… that’s what he said. On the training deck earlier.” Keith recalled Lance using the phrase like an insult and it had confused him at the time, but of course, Keith had had more important things to worry about mere ticks later, and any strange behaviour he’d noticed from the intervention had gotten tossed into his overcooked brain-broth along with the rest of his muddled thoughts. 

Shiro nodded. “I talked to him about it a while ago. Honestly, I thought he’d forgotten.” A sad smile came over his face. “Should’ve known he wouldn’t just let it go like that. That’s not Lance.” 

Keith regarded him in confusion. “Wait but… what do you mean ‘not in control’? You mean like… acting on impulse?”

“No,” Shiro replied, shaking his head. “It’s… hard to explain. Like sometimes, I’m just not there anymore.”

Keith’s brow dropped, an uneasiness rolling in his gut. “I don’t understand.”

“Me neither, buddy,” Shiro said tiredly, “but it’s not important right now anyway. Lance comes first.”

Keith shook his head, pivoting so that he was fully facing his brother, showing him that he had his full attention. 

“You can’t just brush this off,” he urged him. “That’s how we got into this mess in the first place. The only reason Lance is in that pod right now, is because he was trying to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. If something’s wrong, we need to figure it out. I don’t want the same thing to happen to anyone else.”

Shiro looked at him curiously, a hint of surprise in his expression. A small smile began to break out across his face and Keith looked at him questioningly, wondering if maybe his hair was sticking up an odd angle or something.

“What?” he barked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Shiro said with a hint of a laugh. “Sometimes, it just amazes me how much you’ve grown. Feels like just yesterday I was picking you up at the office for getting into fist fights and now you’re lecturing me on why I shouldn’t ignore my problems. I think Space has been good for you.”

A short laugh burst from Keith and he gave his brother a weak shove. “Shut up, old man.”

“Ah, _**there’s**_ the delinquent I know and love.”

Keith didn’t respond to that, opting instead to look back over at the occupied pod. Seems like Lance wasn’t the only one having issues while Keith was gone. How many more of them had been struggling without anyone knowing?

“Whatever’s going on, we’ll fix it,” said Keith resolutely. “We’ll fix all of it.” 

Keith’s life was already cobbled together from too many broken pieces, scattered over too many galaxies. He’d like to keep this part whole for as long as possible. 

“We have to,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

When Shiro didn’t reply, Keith assumed he’d gone back to sleep, but after a couple of doboshes his voice split the silence, low and a little hesitant.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes still fixed on the pod and the boy sealed within it.

Several beats passed.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Keith’s head whipped around, his words lodging in his throat, unable to break free in order to either accept or deny the claim. His face must have been a sight to behold because Shiro started chuckling to himself at Keith’s distress.

“You forget how well I know you, Keith,” he grinned with an amused kind of fondness, “and that I’ve been in love myself. You have the look; like you’d rip your own heart out if you thought it would make things just a little easier for him.” The last few words came almost as a sigh of pity.

“I – It –“ Keith stuttered, unsure what to say, because honestly, deep down at his core, he knew Shiro was right. 

He hadn’t actually admitted it to himself, but he could feel it. His every thought and every emotion connected to the red paladin was scorching hot, leaving every inch of him swollen and pulsing with a feeling of longing that he knew could only be love. And Keith _**despised**_ it.

He shouldn’t feel this way; _**couldn’t**_ feel this way. It wasn’t fair. Lance was far from okay, and here Keith was, wanting him to be okay just so he could see his smile and hear his laugh and hold him in his arms. There was nothing in this universe that he needed more than for Lance to be safe, and to be his so that he could keep him safe, and Keith wanted it _**so bad**_. 

The problem was, Keith could handle it when it was just a crush. When it was just a crush, he could push it aside, be practical, but calling it love; that made it so much bigger, so much heavier. He’d need a forklift to shift those kinds of feelings aside.

He could go on pretending that his feelings stemmed mostly from the platonic side of their relationship, but who was he kidding? Clearly not Shiro, at least. Any platonic feelings he may have had had been slowly wound up in a pretty silk ribbon and pulled so tight that they throbbed with the need to spring free, and he was so afraid they were going to spring free all over Lance. Keith couldn’t do that him right now, not when he was already so confused and lost. How was Keith supposed to tell him, “Oh, by the way, I’m completely and pathetically in love with you,” without giving Lance yet more things to fuel his already excessive guilt, because there’s no way Lance wouldn’t feel bad for not reciprocating those feelings; and how could he? Underneath all of his crushing insecurities and depression, how could Lance have been harbouring any kind of feelings for Keith? When would he have had the time to consider any feelings other than hatred for the guy that had effectively abandoned him? 

It wasn’t fair that Keith was feeling like this now after everything he’d put Lance through. It was like some sick joke. Lance didn’t owe him anything. Keith didn’t deserve anything. Lance needed him to be a friend, to be someone he could trust and confide in and Keith would do that for him if Lance let him, no matter how much it tore him apart. Love didn’t figure into his solution, so he wouldn’t even let it be part of the equation.

“It’s okay, you know,” Shiro soothed, offering what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to look so scared.”

“I’m not scared, I just…” 

Keith faltered, realising that was exactly what he was. He was mind-numbingly terrified by the idea of Lance finding out his secret, of Lance rejecting him, of Lance being disgusted by him, feeling used and dirty and alone and blaming it all on Keith. Keith blaming it all on himself.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” snapped Keith at last, wrenching his gaze back to the pod and refusing to look his brother in the eye. He couldn’t afford to break down over this right now, not when Lance would be out of the pod in a few vargas and most likely looking for answers. Keith still didn’t even know what he was going to say to him. 

He’d been going over their conversation – Argument? Epiphany?? – in his head all night and all he’d been able to surmise is that they definitely needed to talk some stuff out. It’s all well and good to scream your emotions over a communications system in the heat of the moment, but it wasn’t exactly the best way to be sure you got your message across. He had to be there for Lance. Everything else came secondary for now, including himself, at least until Keith could be sure Lance would be okay. As long as Lance was okay, Keith would be too.

He couldn’t see Shiro’s face, but he could still picture the concern and disapproval radiating from it. He almost felt the air shift when the black paladin opened his mouth to talk.

“Please, Shiro,” Keith interrupted before his brother could object. 

He heard another sigh of defeat.

“Okay, Keith, but if you ever need some advice or someone to talk to –"

“Thanks,” he snapped as a warning; then more softly, “I know. Thanks.”

* * *

* * *

Waking up from a stint in the healing-pods was always a slow process. Lance would liken it to battling your way through a blizzard, where the snow encases you up to your thighs and you can’t see anything but a piercing whiteness for miles around. It made it impossible to navigate; impossible to even spot your own hands two inches in front of your face. 

The main difference was the smell, a harsh mix of chemicals that mingled with the crisp icy atmosphere and caught in your throat, pulling you back into awareness. He felt it tugging at him now.

Lance was falling, and, still caught in the mindlessness of pod-daze, he was actually a little surprised when he didn’t tumble face-first into a snow drift, instead feeling toasty arms sliding around his torso and holding him somewhat upright as he tried to piece together what the quiznak was going on. He’d been in a pod so that means he was hurt, right? 

The blizzard was still raging in his head though, making it hard to pick up on the finer details of his situation, so, for now, he settled for burying further into the warmth, trusting that in due course it would thaw out his thoroughly popsicled brain and yield some answers for him.

As he nuzzled closer to the body, he felt it stiffen under him and a chorus of soft snorts nudged at his ears.

“Hey, buddy?” That sounded like Hunk. “How about we take a step back before Keith gets an aneurysm?” 

Hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him gently away from his human heater, much to his disgruntlement, but as the words began to register in his fuzzy brain, his brow twitched with confusion and he reached up to rub the murk from his eyes. 

Had he misheard? What would Keith be doing here? He was supposed to be with the Blade of Marmalade. Blade of… Marmite? It’s a hard name to remember when you’re just thirty ticks out of a healing coma, okay!

Peeling his eyes open at last, Lance saw that, no actually, he hadn’t misheard. There, not two feet in front of him, stood the former black paladin, and even with just that one fleeting glance, Lance felt anxiety fizzling in his chest like a sparkler. 

Something… something wasn’t right. Keith wasn’t sporting his usual stoic expression. He didn’t have his arms crossed over his chest in a pointed declaration of “back off!”. Even his eyes didn’t hold their usual intensity, missing that glint of solid conviction that Lance had always taken as a challenge.

No; today, there was a sadness in those stormy eyes, emphasised by the darkness that hung in ripples beneath them and the grey shadow growing across his jawline like moss on a grave. He looked hesitant, tense and uncertain in a way that only fuelled Lance’s apprehension because he’d only seen Keith look like that a few times since he’d known him, and never had it proceeded anything good. It scared him.

“Hey,” Lance crooned falteringly, reaching a hand out towards him, “what’s going…”

He trailed off as his eyes drifted to the small group gathered between the two of them. The sentiment was mirrored in their faces too, and the way they were standing, the way they were brooding over Lance… It was strikingly familiar. Painfully familiar. It tugged persistently at the corner of his mind, until finally, the film was peeling backwards and the images hidden behind it popped clearly into view.

_**His friends, lined up in the Castle corridor like mourners at a burial ceremony, eyes only just flickering to life again behind the lingering smoke of their barely conquered hopelessness, gazing down on him in exhaustion and concern as he backs into the wall behind him and wishes for it to stop because**_ I did this, I did this… _**did this when he –**_

_**The emptiness of Space stretching out in front of him, an endless vacuum pulling him out into nothingness because he doesn’t want to think anymore, needs something to get lost in so that he can lose the pain as well, but the pain always follows, always gripping at his heart and squeezing so tight that he thinks that it might burst. Sometimes he wishes it would burst.** _

_**Betrayal etched across their faces as he shrieks accusations that bloody his hands, but they’re already so coated in the substance that it merely sloughs off, splashing into the puddle churning around his ankles, encasing them like wet crimson concrete. He doesn’t want to hurt them anymore and he knows he has to run because the stench is filling his nose, dripping down his throat and he’s going to drown and they’re going to drown with him; he won’t take them down with him. He doesn’t want to hurt them.** _

_**Keith’s voice is ringing in his ears and all he hears is hurt; hurt that rips into his tone like ladders in a pair of tights and he wants it to stop but it just won’t stop; Keith just won’t stop; they just won’t stop; and he doesn’t know what to do, because as his eyes fill with tears and colours swirl together in his vision, he can’t see, can’t see the way out and can’t see the way back as he drifts in the darkness and wonders how far he’d have to go before they finally gave up. Why won’t they give up?** _

A sharp, angry pain radiated up from his knees and Lance realised he’d fallen to the floor. The bodies around him clustered inwards and he felt the shortness of his breath like needles in his lungs and heard too many voices clamouring around his head like wasps zipping back and forth too fast to swat away, crying _**“Lance! Lance!”**_ just like they had done before, _**fists battering against the door behind his head as he curled into himself and wished for it all to go away,**_ go away!

_**Vargas of chatter and arguing, voices rising and falling like waves on the sea, swelling until he gasps in anticipation of the frigid water soon to crash down over him or dipping to a murmur that settles around him like tepid sewage, stinking of its his own guilt because they don’t need to be here; he can look after himself; he’s trying to look after them. They should just forget about him. It would be better without him. It would be better if he’d never existed.** _

A pair of eyes appear in front of him, dark inky sapphires glimmering with violet imperfections. He knows those eyes, knows them in a way that a chain-smoker knows their chosen brand of cigarettes. Every puff is filled with a sweet relief, but deep down he knows the damage it is doing, knows that he can’t quit his yearning no matter how much it hurts him.

“Lance.”

He hadn’t heard the silence, the whizzing of his thoughts and the gasping of his lungs filling every crevice of his head. He sees the syllable rolling from the curl of a tongue and sees it stretch the pink lips wide, watches the movement over and over before it really connects that that’s him. He is Lance, and Keith is calling him. No, not calling him. Not like before. _**Not like the panicked pleading that filters through his helmet and curls around his skull. The desperate begging of someone he’d left behind. Someone who had left him behind. Someone he couldn’t even see or feel or hope to understand.**_

“I’m here, Lance.”

He _**is**_ here. Keith is here, crouched in front of him and rubbing soft circles into the back of his hand; the lightest touch, but dizzying in that Lance could feel it at all. He could see him. He could feel him. He could understand.

_**“I- I get it now.”** _

_**“You work and you work and it never seems to end because you’re never going to be enough.”** _

_**“I thought the team worked so much better without me in it.”** _

_**“No one understands what it’s like to try so hard, but everything you do ends up being an even bigger disaster.”** _

_**“You can be in a room full of people and still feel like you’re all alone.”** _

_**“I tried so hard and all I could think to do was to disappear.”** _

_**“We can sort this mess out, Lance, but I need you to do it.”** _

_**“Please. Come back.”** _

_**“I need you…”** _

_**“Please.”** _

_**“Come back.”** _

“Come back to me, Lance.”

Lance blinked, felt the stickiness of moisture on his lashes like thick glue and the dryness of his throat like industrial sandpaper, but most of all, the soft circles on the back of his hand that had his head spinning and his skin burning.

“Keith?” 

The voice didn’t sound like his own. He hadn’t even felt his lips move, didn’t even know what he was saying. It must have been him though because the face in front of his brightened with relief, rose lips twitching with a smile.

“Yeah. I got you. Just breathe through it. I got you.”

_**Breathe?** _

_**Breathe!** _

He gasped suddenly and it felt like his lungs were exploding.

“Hey, hey, no!” He felt pressure as a hand cupped his arm. He thought, in that moment, that those two hands might have been the only thing holding him together. 

“Calmly, like me, see?”

Lance breathed, fitfully at first, tripping over his own lungs and the pitfall traps scattered throughout his memories, but as he pooled his focus, homing in on the careful ministrations of Keith’s thumb, the single strand of hair caught in his eyelashes, the harsh, clinical scent of the healing-deck, he felt everything starting to drift back together. 

Keith was still speaking to him and Lance latched onto a phrase, repeating it back to test his own voice.

“I’m here,” he sighed almost inaudibly, but he felt the vibration, felt the air rushing past his lips; not too little, not too much. 

He watched Keith’s brow drop and his lips purse in confusion. It might have been cute if not for the barely veiled fear still simmering behind his eyes.

“Are you with me now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Lance rasped, voice a little stronger this time.

Keith didn’t really look convinced, but his eyes flickered down and Lance followed his gaze, watching as Keith’s fingers pulled at his own and realising belatedly that he wanted him to unfurl his fists. Doing so brought a stinging sensation to the surface of his palms and he hissed in shock as Keith turned his hand over to inspect the damage. Lance’s eyes swept over the row of dark purple crescents and he heard Keith mumble something to himself in a tone of disapproval. 

He watched Keith’s face as he moved to inspect the other palm and noticed how it had softened with something Lance had never seen there before; something like concern, but more open. Lance faintly wished he would look up so he could see his eyes. He didn’t know if maybe it was a Galra thing – apart from Keith, he’d never spent enough time around one to check – but he swore that they changed colour with his mood, and he was curious to know what they looked like right now, caught in the mist of such a strange new emotion. 

Lance was so entranced that when Keith finally lifted his head, he almost jumped at the suddenness of the movement, but to Lance’s disappointment, Keith didn’t look towards him, focused instead on something outwith Lance’s vision.

It wasn’t until Keith began to get up, fingers slipping away from Lance’s, that he snapped properly out of his paralysis.

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Lance’s arm shot forward, his hand clamping around Keith’s wrist just as the boy had pushed himself halfway to standing. 

Keith paused, his eyes going wide as he looked between Lance’s face and his hand, but instead of pulling away, he cautiously lowered himself back to the floor, crossing his legs and tossing a comment to someone out of Lance’s sight. Lance didn’t catch what was said, common-sense making a reappearance and rendering him too mortified by his own traitorous reflexes to focus on anything else.

“S-sorry,” Lance sputtered, releasing Keith’s wrist and snatching his hand back. He felt heat crawling up his face as he shrunk into himself, holding the offending appendage prisoner, lest it act of its own accord again. 

“Don’t sweat it,” said Keith. “If I was gonna catch your cooties, I think I would have got them a long time ago.” 

Lance went stiff. “Did you just –” he choked, failing to keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I do have a sense of humour, Lance,” Keith retorted, the tiniest smile jerking the corner of his mouth.

“Coulda fooled me,” he said before he could stop himself, but Keith’s smile only grew. 

“I promise not to try and punch you again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Punch –? Oh.

The corridor. His joke. Trying to “lightning” the mood…

Lightning. His rescue.

Running away.

Crap. 

Crap, crap, crap, crap, _**crap**_. 

His anxiety was feeling a little bigger than a sparkler now; in fact, it was spurting like a frickin’ roman candle, big fiery balls of “you fucked up!” pounding against his ribcage and rendering him unable to speak.

Keith’s smile slipped, and Lance felt his panic spike.

What was he supposed to say? Was Keith mad at him? How could he not be? Lance had heard how scared he’d been, had heard the desperation in his voice and all of his frustration leaking through, exploding in his words. And when _**hadn’t**_ Keith been frustrated at him lately? Lance hadn’t made any of this easy, but then none of it was. Everything was so complicated, so much so that even Lance didn’t understand it all. If the two of them had had a rocky relationship before then there was no chance for them now. Keith was probably counting down the seconds until he could get out of here, to when he could finally get Lance out of his hair for good.

“Lance, buddy –”

A hand fell on Lance’s shoulder and he flinched back with a yelp of alarm because he hadn’t seen Keith move and Lance certainly hadn’t tried to pat himself. His eyes caught on the hand as it retreated and followed it up to the source. Hunk was standing over him, a blanket clutched in one hand and face bright with horror.

“Ah, sorry, my bad!” he blurted. “I didn’t mean to scare you but you looked like you were about to start freaking out again and I –”

“No, no, Hunk! It’s okay!” Lance insisted, his heart jumping a mile a minute. “I just didn’t see you!” His words did apparently nothing to soothe the yellow paladin who looked scared to even get close to him now.

No, no, _**no**_ , how was this already going so wrong?! Why hadn’t Keith warned him? Why was it that every time he tried to make things better, he only made them worse? Why couldn’t he _**get a hold of himself**_? 

“Hey,” said Keith, getting Lance’s attention again. “Stop. Thinking. Just talk to me.”

Lance felt his mouth open but his words ran dry. He gaped like a goldfish for a couple of ticks before shaking his head frantically and dropping his eyes to his lap. He couldn’t do this to Keith again, couldn’t let himself fall apart on him; not after Keith had already been forced into an emergency heart-to-heart, cradled him in his arms – possibly for the second time – held his hand, _**and**_ talked him through an anxiety-attack. The boy was probably neck deep in his own social-anxiety right now, never mind Lance’s problems. Keith had already done so much for him on the basis that Lance was too pathetic to handle it by himself. He couldn’t ask for anything else.

“It doesn’t matter. Sorry for being such a mess,” he rambled, nervously pressing his thumb into the scar on his wrist. “You can go if you want. I mean, you’ve already done enough and you’re probably sick of the sound of my voice by now anyway.” 

“Lance,” Keith half-sighed, reaching over to pull Lance’s hands apart, “quit being an idiot.”

Lance’s heart jolted harshly at that and he lifted his head to meet Keith’s eyes, expecting some form of heated exasperation, but instead finding a little more of that strange emotion from before. 

Lilac, Lance noted. His pupils were ringed with tiny tufts of lilac.

“I already told you,” said Keith, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to fix this, remember?” 

Lance hesitated a moment, memories bubbling to the surface. That was what Keith had said, right after he’d told him he’d missed him. That he needed him. He’d said they were going to sort this out together. He must have meant it; Keith never said anything that he didn’t mean. It was that honesty that made it so easy to trust him, even when he hadn’t wanted to.

Lance gave a weak nod, and Keith pushed on with a mite more confidence.

“That means,” continued Keith, still holding his gaze, “that whatever’s wrong, you can talk to me. You’re not alone in this, Lance.”

That’s right. He wasn’t alone, because Keith had been through it all too.

Lance felt hope pulsing briefly within him and his eyes prickled with the effort of holding it back. No. He couldn’t let – couldn’t let himself get his hopes up, because he didn’t have the strength in him to survive the fall. He barely had the strength to keep his lip from shaking.

But Keith was looking at him with sparkling eyes that pulled him in and how could he stop himself falling when he was already diving in the depths of those promises? He was so tired of trying to repress every good feeling. They were so few and far between and he was too worn down already to keep fighting like this. Hope was one of those things he’d thought he’d lost until Keith came along with his heartfelt words and fiery reassurances, filling the void inside of him with light and life. He missed the way hope made him feel full; made him feel alive. He wanted to feel alive again. He wanted to believe him.

“Anything you need, Lance; I’m here,” uttered Keith, and there was such sincerity in those words that it felt like a burn, scorching him all the way to his soul. The dam in Lance’s heart didn’t just burst; it was obliterated, a whole host of emotions he hadn’t even known were there, crashing through and soothing the heat, making him almost sigh with relief.

A tear-strangled laugh escaped him before he could stop it. 

“Anything, huh?” he sniffed with a wobbly grin. “That’s a pretty dangerous offer to make, Mullet.”

He was afraid the joke hadn’t gone down too well, flashes of Keith’s fist drawing back in the Castle corridor filling his head, but this time Keith raised an eyebrow instead, his lip quirking suggestively.

“What gave you the idea that I liked to play it safe?”

Lance found himself wide-eyed and tongue-tied, heat he didn’t think his pod-chilled body had rising up into his face. 

There was an awkward cough from somewhere off to the right.

Lance’s head snapped towards the noise and he noted Shiro looking over at Keith with an amused smirk. The rest of the team, minus Hunk who was still hovering by Lance’s side, were stood nearby, arms stocked with pillows and blankets that they seemed to be half-heartedly tidying away and all sporting similar expressions, though at least they had the decency to avert their eyes and pretend to look busy.

“H-how long have you all been there?!” Lance squeaked, unintentionally hunching his shoulders up around the prickling shame at the back of his neck.

“Just since, like, the whole time, dude,” Hunk shrugged sheepishly, leaning down to drape the blanket around Lance, now that he deemed it safe to approach.

Lance groaned, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “S-sorry, guys. I guess I didn’t see you there. My head’s kind of… sorry.” 

He hadn’t meant to ignore them. He hadn’t even thought… but no; of course, they’d still be here. He doubted anyone would be leaving him alone any time soon after the stunt he’d pulled.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Shiro with a patient smile. “Are you okay?”

The words hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest, the force of it knocking him back a few metaphorical steps because that was… that was kind of a big question; one that he’d been avoiding answering for so long that he felt his emotional hackles raise just thinking about it. 

He could deflect the question, let it send him back to factory reset mode, all false smiles and empty reassurances, but with everyone staring at him like that, like whatever he said right now was the difference between life and death, he felt something new; a black hole of guilt opening up in his chest and pulling everything so tight that he could barely draw in a gasp. 

His distress must have shown on his face because Shiro’s soon crumpled with a familiar pity and it made Lance feel suddenly sick. Shiro shouldn’t pity him; Hell, Shiro should be yelling at him. Lance had screwed up yet again, endangered the whole team _**and**_ Keith on some stupid unnecessary rescue mission that never would have needed to happen if he could have just kept it together. They’d flown into what was essentially a lightning storm for him; what if one of them had gotten hurt trying to rescue his sorry ass?

He still remembered the agony of it, his muscles contracting all at once, cramps in every inch of his body. He was screaming and his limbs were screaming and he couldn’t even remember it stopping. It was just endless pain and then suddenly he was waking up in Keith’s arms. What if they were just a little less lucky? What if there had been no Keith to wake up to? 

That... that didn’t even bear thinking about.

He had to say something. His friends were all staring at him, fear growing in their eyes for every moment he stayed silent. He just had to tell them he was okay. It should have been easy. He’d said it enough times over the last few movements that it was practically his catchphrase at this point. 

But things were different now. How could they believe him after everything that had happened? He couldn’t fool them anymore; he couldn’t fool himself into believing everything would just simply get better at some point down the line. The line had _**ended**_ ; he’d de-railed the train, sent them all careening over the cliff-edge and screaming into the abyss. Somehow, they’d survived, but crawling out from the smouldering wreckage, glancing helplessly around at the carnage, there was only one conclusion that Lance could come to anymore.

“I’m… I’m not okay, am I?” Lance croaked, and then, even to his own surprise, coughed out a short laugh, because it was ridiculous how long it had taken him to admit that, to finally say the words out loud. He’d known it was true for a while now, but it had felt like something shameful, something to hide, even if it should have been obvious that everyone already knew.

A tear sliced down his cheek and he raised his arm to scrub away the moisture, suddenly overwhelmed by shame. He didn’t know how he’d ever thought he could hide it for so long; didn’t know how he could have been so stupid as to fall for it himself. His friends would probably be laughing at him if he hadn’t caused so much damage with his lunacy.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, unable to look them in the eyes. “I know it’s stupid but that was really hard for some reason.”

He sensed movement next to him and looked up just in time to watch Hunk sink into a crouch beside him. 

“Can I… Can I hug you?” 

Lance’s heart broke at seeing him so timid about asking for something so simple as a hug, especially since he’d _**never**_ known him to falter on the subject before. Hunk needed hugs like he needed air to breathe, and denying him was basically the equivalent of kicking a puppy for wagging its tail. This one wasn’t for Lance. This was for Hunk.

Lance barely had time to finish his nod before the yellow paladin barrelled into him, pressing Lance’s face into his shoulder. He was so _**warm**_ , and so _**Hunk**_. A hundred memories of hugs just like this one flashed through his head, but none of them compared to this, right here, right now, because this one meant so much more, carrying the weight of almost a phoeb’s worth of regrets and a phoeb’s worth of forgiveness. Lance gradually slid his arms around Hunk’s back in return, bunching his hands in the material of his waistcoat. 

“I’m so sorry,” he hiccupped into his shoulder, knowing already that he was going to be making a horrible mess of Hunk’s shirt.

The boy promptly shushed him. “Stop apologising, dude,” he said with a huff. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Proud of what?” Lance coughed out bitterly, curling further into his own chest so as not to muffle the words. “All I’ve done is hurt you guys and put you in danger and –”

“No, dude,” Hunk berated. “I’m proud of you because you came back, and because you finally admitted there’s something wrong. It’s been Hell trying to make you realise that, Lance. You can’t help someone who doesn’t think they need it.”

Lance sniffled, feeling a familiar impulse rising from his stomach. He’d always tried to ignore it, pushed it back down with a handful of raw fear, but there wasn’t any point anymore. He’d hit rock bottom. There was nowhere left to push it to.

“I think…” he began, willing himself to get through it. “I think I need help,” he choked, punctuating the statement with a loud sob. 

And with that, he finally allowed himself to fall apart, everything he’d been repressing over the last few movements flooding out as he clung to his best friend, clung to him because he’d been so close to losing him forever and it would have been his fault. All of it was his fault.

“I know, man. Don’t worry. I got you covered.”

Hunk didn’t say anything else for a little while, simply letting Lance cry and giving him the occasional squeeze to let him know that he was still there and that he felt it too. Lance could feel a small wet patch forming beneath his left shoulder, but that wasn’t a surprise. Honestly, he was impressed that Hunk had held it together for this long.

“Lance,” he heard after a dobosh or two, and Hunk gently coaxed them apart, though kept a hand on his arm to steady him as they looked up to face Coran. Lance hadn’t even heard him approaching.

The advisor leant down, proffering a water-pouch and a sort of laboured smile.

“Drink up, lad. If you’re going to keep on bawling like that then you’re going to need it.”

Lance raised a shaky hand to take the pouch, but caught up in memories of Coran doing exactly the same thing over the last few movements, always checking in and making sure he was okay even when Lance didn’t want him there, practically begging him to rest when his muscles were aching and his body was mottled with bruises, Lance found himself, instead, throwing his arms around the Altean’s legs, at which the man wobbled dangerously but didn’t object.

“I’m sorry,” Lance whined, pouring everything he had into it, because Coran had been there for him from the start, and Lance had just never had enough common-sense to listen to him. “I’m so sorry.”

Coran lowered a hand to his shoulder, giving him a little push as he bent his knees, prompting Lance to loosen his grip enough for the man to sink to the floor beside them and pull him into a real embrace, tucking his head against his chest. Lance could hear his heart beating like the footfall of a charging rhino.

“ _ **Cheese**_ , you scared me, m’boy.”

“It’s ‘geez’, Coran,” giggled Hunk fondly.

“Well, maybe I meant ‘cheese’,” puffed the advisor. “Dairy can be pretty terrifying in the right – er, wrong – digestive system.”

“Coran!” thundered Keith, and a fraction of a snigger tripped over the back of Lance’s throat.

“I wasn’t naming any names!” defended the man. “That was your own fault.”

_**Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.** _

The words dropped into Lance’s head again causing a ripple effect, each repetition swelling like a yelled whisper so that he flinched internally against the uncomfortable tickling in his ears.

Or maybe it was external, because he soon felt a finger prodding impatiently at his back.

He drew away from Coran and came face-to-face with Pidge. She was glowering down at him with forceful tenacity, her golden eyes flickering with too many emotions in too-short increments for him to decipher. It unsettled him, so much so that when she dropped jerkily to her knees in front of him, he cringed slightly at the movement. 

Still maintaining that stoney scowl, Pidge raised her hands in front of her as if she were about to double karate chop him and Lance eyed her with terrified confusion. Imagine his surprise when she gently slapped her palms on either side of his face, and her intense expression morphed into a mildly irritated pout.

“What are you?” she said.

Lance looked at her blankly for a few painful ticks before replying in bewilderment, “A… an idiot sandwich?”

She gave a firm nod. “Damn right, you are.” 

Then it was her turn to dive forwards, slamming into his chest, and honestly Lance was going to have bruises. Giant, beautiful, love-shaped bruises.

Hunk did pretty well to last the two ticks he did before enveloping them both again, almost knocking them backwards onto the floor, and when Lance felt Pidge’s laugh vibrating against his sternum, it stirred up something small and frail within him, something that had been tampered down repeatedly until it laid almost as flat as a mangled crêpe against his diaphragm. It was a yearning for closeness, for an intimacy he had lost during his weeks of forced isolation, and now that it had been revived, it was swelling in his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe so that when Lance laughed along with his friend, it came out more like a hiccup.

“Make room for me!” cheered Coran and Lance felt the pressure of yet another set of arms wrapping around him; and then another, and then another, as Shiro and Allura joined them on the floor. He’d been cocooned. There was no way he was escaping this time. Maybe that was the point. 

He still remembered the faces out in the hall, remembered the fear hanging over them like a second shadow and the loss trembling in their eyes. He’d done that. He’d tried to help them and instead he’d made things even worse, because he didn’t think to realise that him disappearing might hurt them more, just like he’d been hurt when Keith had left. He’d been so stupid to forget that pain, to think that they’d ever just let him go, because if he’d had a choice, if he’d known how Keith had been feeling, he never would have let him leave like that. He’d want to help him. Lance’s team – _**his family**_ – they wanted to help him, and _**finally**_ , he was going to let them.

Lance tried to pull his arm free so that he could wipe his face, which, after so many nights of neglecting his skincare regimen, was undoubtedly a blotchy mess by this point, but the appendage was trapped somewhere in between Pidge, Allura and Hunk. That was when he realised someone was missing.

His eyes swivelled around to catch on the former black paladin who had, at some point, gotten to his feet and shuffled away from the clustering teammates. Lance watched as he crossed his arms over his chest and peered down at the floor through a curtain of onyx strands, watched the stiffness in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into the fabric of his suit and the way his feet shifted slightly to point towards the door. His biggest giveaway, however, had always been his eyes. 

Lance recognised the look in those eyes, felt it radiate through him with every pulse of longing in his chest, felt it sizzle in his cells with every flicker of violet that passed over Keith’s gaze in a wave of desperate yearning. Lance knew _**exactly**_ how that felt.

“Keith,” Lance uttered, snagging the Blade’s attention. He finally managed to yank his arm free as his friends shuffled to look back at the lonely ex-paladin and he held it out in front of him, looking the boy in the eyes and trying to push every ounce of warmth he could muster into his expression, trying to tell Keith that he was welcome here; that this was still his team too. They wanted him back. _**Lance**_ wanted him back.

“No more running,” Lance smiled wearily.

Keith studied the proffered hand for a moment, looking unsure, but his shoulders slumped a little and slowly he unfurled his arms, reaching out to take Lance’s hand. Lance’s smile grew more natural as Keith’s fingertips brushed his and he acted swiftly, negating any possibility of the boy backing out by clamping onto his hand and yanking him harshly down into the huddle. 

There was a collective groan as Keith crashed into the pile, but everyone moved to accommodate him anyway, just like Lance knew they would. 

That being said…

“Keith, get your knee out of my back!” grumbled Pidge.

“I can’t help it!” he defended. “This is literally the most ineffective way to give someone a hug.”

“How dare you disrespect the sanctity of the group hug!” gasped Hunk, appalled. “Don’t make me come over there!”

“Please don’t,” agreed Allura. “I am quite comfortable here and if Hunk moves, I’m afraid that will be ruined.”

“Of course, you’re comfortable,” scoffed Pidge. “You’re hogging the best hugger in the group all to yourself.”

“Hey, be fair,” Hunk admonished. “I’ve got Lance in here too. And is that… Shiro, is that your arm?”

“Uh, I don’t know? Which one?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, the feeling only reaches the surface on one of them,” Shiro said with dry amusement.

“Oh.” There was a pause. “ _ **Oh my God, I’m so sorry!**_ ” Hunk sputtered.

Pidge snorted. “Is Shiro that ripped that you can’t tell the difference between muscle and metal?”

“He is,” Keith offered flatly and the twinge of jealousy simmering behind those words acted like a sharpened pin, finally piercing that bubble of feeling that had been rising from Lance’s chest up into his throat. The slow leak turned into an eruption and laughter rushed from him so fast it felt more like projectile vomiting. 

“I really missed you guys,” he giggled hysterically, and before he could really comprehend what was happening, the laughter started dissolving into sobs; ugly, _**noisy**_ sobs, so much different than any that had come before them. 

He felt a few of his friends draw back to give him space, but their hands were rubbing up and down his back, his arms – wherever there was space – and from all around him came whispered reassurances that grated on him because what had he done to deserve this kind of comfort? 

His stomach was churning with a nauseating mix of shame and gratitude, and part of him still couldn’t believe that he was actually here; that his friends were right there with him, even after everything he’d done to stop that from happening. In a way, he’d never been so happy to fail.

Maybe that was what urged him to speak his next words, some combination of debt and duty picking at the stitches he’d put in place to keep all of his true feelings down, hauling the words up past his throat to rest behind his teeth. He could feel them slipping between the gaps, pushing at his lips.

“I was trying to protect you,” he whimpered, and it left him breathless.

“Whatever from?” asked Allura, baffled.

A hand slipped into his hair, carding through in slow gentle movements. It reminded him of his mother and he wished now more than ever that she was here with him. She would know what to do. She’d know the right thing to say.

He swallowed back that pang of loss and forced himself to answer. 

“From me,” he uttered and the movements stopped. It was as if the whole room were choking on his confession and as the last few bodies detangled themselves from him, settling back to look at him with heartbroken disbelief, he wasn’t sure whether he should be regretting it.

“Buddy…” Hunk said, sounding almost offended.

“I know,” Lance groaned, shrinking into himself, his own arms replacing those that were embracing him mere ticks ago, “I know you don’t get it, and it’s why I didn’t say anything. You wouldn’t understand. You _**still**_ don’t understand.”

It was stupid. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just ridden it out and then complained he was too tired to talk about it. They would have let him go. He would have had time to think this through properly, to find a way to word it all that wouldn’t result in more tears.

Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Then _**make**_ us understand,” he pressed, and Lance met his gaze, hard but with an underlying plea for explanation. His friends had been kept in the dark for so long, wondering and worrying without a single torch to guide them through, and Lance wanted to reply, wanted to clear up this whole mess and maybe even alleviate some of the tension sticking in the air around him, but they were sitting in an ice cave right now, the slightest noise sending cracks through the ceiling and increasing the chances of the whole thing crashing down on top of them. He didn’t want to risk making things worse again. He always made things worse.

They must have seen him faltering, because Keith looked at him with a frown before he was moving, nudging Shiro out of the way so that he could shuffle into the seat next to Lance. His hand replaced Shiro’s on Lance’s shoulder and he caught his eyes, his expression calm but no less acute than usual. Lance felt his heart leap with nervous anticipation, because if there was one person who could make him talk, it was Keith.

“Tell me why you started training,” Keith said and Lance blinked, shooting him a look of confusion.

“You already know –”

“Tell me again.”

Lance was very aware of all the eyes fixed on him and he realised what Keith was trying to do. It would be easier to talk to Keith, because he already knew all of this. He just had to pretend the others weren’t there. 

It was easier said than done, and it took him a moment even just to force out the same words as before. 

“Be- Because I wanted to be able to protect them.”

“Okay, but why?” coaxed Keith. “Why specifically then? Why not the movement before or after that?”

Lance took in a shallow breath, finding the answer already on the tip of his tongue. 

“Because of Pidge,” he stated.

“Me?” the paladin in question squawked.

Lance dipped his head then, not daring to look at her. “She got hurt because I messed up,” he muttered, finding it easier not to address her directly.

“Buddy, we went over this,” consoled Hunk, pity colouring his tone. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but stopped short. There was no point, because they’d only object to him blaming himself again. They were so determined that he was innocent that they wouldn’t even listen to his reasoning. They never listened, only assumed. 

“But it _**was**_ his fault,” countered Keith and Lance’s head snapped up. There was no trace of a smile on Keith’s face; no hint of a joke.

“It’s true,” Keith shrugged, no doubt in reply to a collection of scandalised looks that Lance couldn’t bring himself to look at. “If he hadn’t broken off from the group and gotten captured, then Pidge never would have been on the ship, and she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

It was so strange to hear those words coming from anyone except himself, but it didn’t hurt like he would have expected; it felt more like a relief.

“Okay,” stammered Hunk, “maybe that’s _**technically**_ true, but –”

“But it doesn’t matter,” fumed Pidge. “It’s not like we were gonna leave him there! He almost _**died**_.”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to him,” growled Keith. “You’re all so ready to jump in and defend him, but did you ever think to actually listen to him?”

Lance’s heart panged. It was one thing to think it, but to say it…

“Keith, stop,” he rasped in panic.

“No, Lance,” Keith defended. “I’m not blaming them for anything, I’m just trying to explain. Tell them why you didn’t say anything.”

“Keith,” Lance pleaded.

“Tell them.” 

Lance swallowed. “Because I didn’t want to bother them.”

“You’re lying,” glared Keith.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” he snarled. “Tell them the truth! Tell them what you told me!”

Lance groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Fine!” he snapped, feeling his frustration flare, growing with each proceeding word. “It was because I didn’t want to feel stupid! The last time I confided in someone, Keith fucking left! He treated it like it didn’t even matter, so I started thinking, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’m being over-dramatic. You guys are always saying how over-dramatic I am!”

He could feel the air turn cold around him at that bitter remark, but he wasn’t done yet, because now that he’d started, he had to finish it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to again if he stopped.

“I figured if I could just get better, then it would be problem solved, like there wasn’t an issue because there would _**be**_ no issue anymore, but then no matter how much I worked, everything just got worse! Every time I tried to help, I ended up screwing up even more, and every time I got hurt or tried to hide how much it was affecting me, I could see everyone getting more and more worried, and it annoyed me because I wasn’t worth worrying about! It was my problem, and I was dealing with it. But I wasn’t dealing with it! Some days I couldn’t even think about anything else and even after I’d figured out how pointless it all was, I knew there was no way out, because if I just stopped then that would mean I’d given up, like, I’d given up on myself, and that was… that was really scary.”

Lance’s thoughts turned to the last few quintants and that familiar fear gripped his heart anew. 

“I kept thinking that if I didn’t get better, then I was gonna get kicked off the team, and then what would I do? The choice would be made for me, and it was pretty much the only thing I had control of anymore, so, when we had that fight, and I said all those shitty things to you guys, it was like; what’s the point of trying anymore? All I wanted was to protect you guys and instead I put you through so much bull-crap worrying about me and then, to top that off, yelled at you like it was your fault. I realised that, really, the only thing that had hurt any of you recently was me, and that it if I wasn’t here to hurt you, then maybe everything would be okay. 

“So, I just left, and I didn’t know where I was going or what I was supposed to do when I got there, but I just couldn’t be here anymore when all I was doing was hurting you guys. I thought you’d be better off without me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Lance McLain!” yelled Pidge, jerking up onto her knees so that she was glaring down at him. Her cheeks were shiny with tears and her fists shook by her sides, equal parts rage and terror. “If you think we could ever have been happier without you, then you’re even stupider than I thought!”

“Pidge!” Shiro scolded.

“I know,” said Lance, cutting off the objection and feeling his own eyes start to prickle again. “I know because I saw how you guys looked when you brought me back and that was so much worse than anything I’d ever done to you. And I’m _**sorry**_. I’m _**so sorry**_. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I want to, more than anything else. I’m sorry I did that to you. I’m sorry I’m so useless and that I’m an idiot and a mess but I love you guys. I love you guys _**so much**_ , and that’s why I know I’m never going to do anything like that again, because I’m done hurting you. I’m… I’m done hurting myself. It’s not helping anything. I just want to be okay again. I’m so sick of being… I don’t even know anymore. I’m just tired. It’s like I’ve been on autopilot for ages and now…”

He trailed off with a shaky breath and buried his face in his hands again. No one said anything at first, and when he lifted his eyes to skim the room, the team seemed to be trapped in varying states of grief as they sifted through what he’d said. Hunk looked like he’d just seen a cat skinned right in front of him and Pidge was leaning brokenly into Allura who had slung an arm around the younger girl, her own face furrowed with dark reflection. Coran had folded his legs and propped his elbows up on his knees, pressing his clasped hands into his face as he thought, a flash of anger seething there to mirror that on Shiro’s face.

Lance’s eyes roamed at last to Keith beside him. The boy’s head was bowed so that Lance couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t need to. He recognised the regret pouring over his slumped shoulders, the resignation and resentment fighting for purchase in the alternating tension of his muscles, but mostly, he could feel the sympathy rolling off of him like the toll of a bell, shaking him to his very core. Keith knew how Lance felt, and right now, he himself was feeling it all over again. 

Lance’s heart ached for the ex-paladin. He wanted to comfort him but he didn’t know how. They were two peas in a pod, but the pod was rotten and the peas were already halfway to completely smooshed.

“You okay?” he asked tentatively, just loud enough for him to hear.

Keith’s shoulders sank further, and Lance’s heart followed. 

Then, just as Lance was falling back into despondency, slowly, Keith sucked in a deep breath, straightening up. He shifted his hand across to Lance’s lap and threaded his fingers in between Lance’s, and as he lifted his head to meet his gaze, he gave a small squeeze and said, “We will be,” and the ache in Lance’s chest only grew, but it was sweeter now, pulsing around the edges with something much stronger and much more effective than grief. 

He squeezed back.

The silence stretched on for another dobosh or so. Lance didn’t think it was his place to speak anymore; he’d already overloaded them with so much information all in one go and as nervous as it made him, he knew he should give them some time to process it all.

Always quick with her thoughts and even faster to jump to the defence of a loved one, Pidge was the one that broke the silence, startling everyone out of their mournful reverie.

“You’re not useless,” she grumbled. “And you’re not stupid. I just said that ‘cos –” She broke off with a huff, her scowl melting into grief. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” she mumbled sombrely. “I never had friends before you guys and Matt’s always telling me I’m kind of rude…I’m really glad you want to get better though. I had no idea how much I needed to hear that until you said it.”

She removed her glasses to drag her sleeve across her wet face, and then stared pensively down at the frames. “I’ve been thinking about what you said on the training deck yesterday.”

Lance’s stomach dropped. “I never should’ve said that,” he muttered and he felt Keith squeeze his hand in sympathy.

“No, but you already apologised for it, so chill,” she said, and it was clearly a veiled warning not to try it again. Lance did have a bit of a reputation for over-compensating by this point. The word “sorry” had almost lost all meaning. 

“Look, I didn’t bring it up to make you feel bad,” she asserted. “I brought it up because the way you said it… I figured you didn’t know…” She lifted her eyes to him at last and courage flared in them, brighter than her anger or her pain. 

“If you were to disappear like that – like Matt or my dad –” she said, “I would stop at _**nothing**_ to get you back. You’re my family too, Lance. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lance clamped down on his lips to stop them trembling and nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak yet, lest it come out as blubbered nonsense. He’d really messed up. He’d messed up big time.

“That goes for me too, dude,” emphasised Hunk. “You know I’d do anything for you, and I know you would for me too, even without all this craziness to prove it. I hope you realise now that you never needed to do any of that stuff, right? We love you just the way you are, goofs and all.”

Lance could feel responses getting backed up in his throat but Keith’s thumb was stroking gently over the base of his index finger now, and it was the smallest gesture, but it made a world of difference in giving him the strength to speak.

“I just wanted to make you guys proud,” he quivered, biting back tears. “I wanted to be good enough to fight by your side and to be sure that if anything happened, I would be able to keep you safe.”

Lance saw Shiro ready to cover that one, but then before he could get any words out, someone else jumped in.

“That’s bullshit though,” Keith proclaimed with a lick of anger, turning to glare at Lance and gripping his hand tight. “We’re at war, Lance. You can’t protect everyone at every single moment. People are going to get hurt, and it’s not your fault if they do. Even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. The team don’t keep you around because of your skills, Lance, they keep you around because they love you and they love _**being with you**_. Besides, you keep telling yourself you’re not good enough to be here, but it makes no sense; not to me, not to anyone. You were _**born**_ to be a paladin.”

Lance was frozen by both the passion of his words and the fervour of his grip. He could feel Keith’s pulse jumping against his palm; or maybe it was his own. It was so hard to tell when Keith wouldn’t let up long enough for him to form a response, never mind analyse the ever-changing pace of his over-stimulated heart. 

“Your piloting is exceptional by any standards,” Keith went on, barely even stopping to breathe, “your combat skills are well above any average soldier’s, you’re good with battle plans but you can also adapt easily to change when the situation demands it, and you’re one of the most determined and dedicated people I’ve ever met. And that’s not even mentioning the number of lives you’ve saved or the way that people just automatically put their trust in you; that’s not something you can just learn.”

Lance felt the need to say something, if only to stop the stream of compliments coming because honestly, this was a lot to handle right now, especially coming from someone who was supposed to be his rival; but Keith’s eyes were burning with a fierceness that, for once, Lance didn’t dare challenge.

“Remember that mission where we had to transport refugees off planet, way back when we first came out here?” He didn’t wait for confirmation, just ploughed on with purpose. “Those people put their trust in you because you made them feel safe. They were hungry and scared and they’d lost everything, but somehow you still managed to make them smile and believe that everything would be okay. I never understood how you did that. And I’ll never understand how after all of that, you still don’t think you’re good enough to be here. You’re perfect… for the job, I mean…”

Keith trailed off, his whole face flushing pink and Lance couldn’t have made fun of him, even if he felt like it, because he was pretty sure he must look exactly the same judging by the burning in his cheeks.

“That’s…” He coughed awkwardly. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me actually.”

Lance didn’t even know what was happening in his chest right now. It felt like his internal organs were sweating. Was _**he**_ sweating? Oh _**Dios**_ , if Keith could smell him right now, he was going to drop dead on the spot.

“He’s right though,” said Shiro and Lance finally managed to drag his eyes away from the ex-paladin. “It was a little sappy for my taste,” he joked, earning him a flustered punch from Keith’s free hand (Lance couldn’t bring himself to let go even despite his embarrassment, and it seemed, thankfully, that Keith felt about the same), “but everything he said was true. You’ve come leagues from where you started and you’ve become someone I can happily confide in.”

Lance looked at his leader with wide eyes. Never in a million deca-phoebs after everything he’d done recently, after what he’d said, would he have expected Shiro to praise him like that.

“Yeah, dude,” chimed in Hunk. “I was terrified when we flew out here to fight in some intergalactic war without training or experience or even knowing what the quiznak was going on, but –” He had to pause to draw in breath after babbling too many words at once in his eagerness – “you were always so excited about everything, and you always encouraged me whenever I was feeling like I couldn’t do this and – look at me now! I never would’ve made it this far without you. I’d probably still be hurling over a toilet-bowl right now if you hadn’t kicked me into gear.”

“And what about when Sendak invaded the Castle?” supplied Pidge optimistically. “You saved my life with that shot and you were barely even conscious enough to know what you were doing at the time. You just saw I was in danger and _**pchoo**_!” She made a little gun gesture with her hand at the sound effect, and Lance couldn’t even correct her this time (his blaster did _**not**_ sound like that, thank you) because he felt like she’d shot him in the heart and he was bleeding sickly-sweet emotions all down his front.

“Right you are, Number Five,” beamed Coran. “I also owe you my life for that very same incident, lad. If it hadn’t been for your keen eye and good timing in both instances, the two of us would have been würper-food! And the Castle and all the lions would have been in Zarkon’s hands before we could even lift off of Arus!”

Allura smiled warmly at him. “Time and time again you have proven yourself as a worthy paladin; of two lions, no less. Your dedication and your heart have brought you so far and both alone, and as one of the five paladins, you have inspired so many people to take up the fight against Zarkon, and given them the confidence to believe that we could win; and we _**did**_ win. Our war may not be over yet, but Zarkon is gone, and you and your accomplishments are one of the key reasons for that great victory.”

It was the first real opportunity he’d been given to speak, and yet he couldn’t get his tongue to untangle itself from his vocal chords. Much to his organs’ continued gratuitous perspiration, Keith took advantage of this predicament to throw in another comment.

“Lance,” he said, and his tone was graver this time, but just as serious. “You’ve made some mistakes. We’ve all made mistakes; but you can’t let those mistakes become who you are, because they don’t outweigh all the good you’ve done. You’re so afraid of being the reason someone gets hurt that you forget how many times you’ve been the reason that everyone’s okay.” 

That statement washed over Lance like aloe-vera on a bad sunburn, and in the same way, he suddenly felt shaky and feverish. He wondered if Keith could feel him trembling against his side, whether that was the reason he broke their eye-contact; in order to give Lance a moment to try and collect himself.

Slowly, a smile wobbled its way onto his face and he let out a slow breath, finally swallowing down the knot in his throat.

“I just… don’t deserve you guys,” Lance spluttered, but it wasn’t heavy or tampered by grief this time. He spoke these words with such profound love and admiration and _**gratitude**_ , that he felt it lift the entire atmosphere around him, the shadows that had been looming over his friends’ heads fading just a little, becoming more of a bad memory now than the heavy reminder they had served as before. 

“Yes, you do, dude,” reiterated Hunk, but he was also smiling, “and we’re gonna keep telling you that until we drill it into that thick skull of yours.” He rapped lightly on Lance’s forehead with his knuckles.

Lance let out a short laugh, and it felt a lot lighter than anything that had come out of his mouth in a long time. Glancing around at all of his friends, he felt a new compulsion tugging at his chest, new words weighing down on his tongue.

“You guys,” he started, fixing each of them with a look which he hoped was brimming with every ounce of his adoration. “Thank you,” he uttered, and it felt a thousand times more meaningful than every other “sorry”. 

“Anytime, buddy,” Hunk replied, his eyes sparkling with his regular dose of happy tears. “Literally, anytime because I know you’ve probably still got a tonne of stuff to sort through in your head and I wanna help you do it… i-if you want me to, of course, like, I’m not gonna push you because I know that the last few days have been kind of insane and you probably wanna, like, curl up into a ball and forget about it for a while – but like in a healthy way! Don’t even think about trying to hide this stuff from us again because honestly, dude, I don’t think my stomach can take it.” Hunk patted his belly like it was a tetchy cat, and Lance could have sworn he heard it actually growl back.

“How about tonight?” he blurted out, apparently running completely on impulses now. “I mean, uh,” he tried again, “Garrison squad sleepover?”

Hunk’s eyes widened with surprise and he and Pidge exchanged a look of uncertainty. 

“That soon? Are you sure?” Hunk fretted, fiddling with the frayed ends of his head-band. “Because if you need some time then you don’t have to –”

“Yeah,” Lance interrupted, before he could lose his nerve. “Don’t worry. We’ll just… take it easy to start with. Maybe… play some _**Killbot**_?” He looked over at Pidge hopefully.

Pidge wasn’t the most adept at Deep Meaningful ConversationsTM, and in fact, she often tended to avoid them unless absolutely necessary, but he really hoped she showed up for this one. He needed her bluntness to counteract Hunk’s sometimes overbearing mother-henning, because he still had a lot more he needed to say to them and there was no way this was going to be easy, not after so many movements of forced silence and dark thoughts strangling him every time he thought to breathe a word. Besides, he still felt like he owed his friends some kind of explanation, and maybe, in some weird way, him finally talking about everything might act as some kind of reassurance to them. If, like Pidge had implied, him getting better was all it took for his friends to feel better too, then, well… he wanted to show them that he was going to take it seriously. This was something that would help them that, for once, he felt like he could actually manage. It was a reason to finally start fighting for himself.

Pidge tucked her glasses back onto her face with a smirk. “Sure. Someone’s gotta make sure Hunk doesn’t smother you.” 

Ah, she’d seen through his ruse. 

“Besides –” she pushed her glasses up so that they glinted menacingly in the light – “we still have an impossible level to beat. Gonna take a whole night, at least; maybe two.”

Lance grinned appreciatively, catching her hint. “As long as it takes,” he said, and she mirrored his smile, softened slightly by a tinge of relief.

A high-pitched beeping filled the air all of a sudden and all eyes turned towards Coran who twirled the end of his moustache with an apologetic chuckle before glancing down at his wrist and frowning.

“I’m afraid we’re due to touch down on Halicon in just about two vargas,” he lamented, at which the whole group’s mood soured.

The princess turned regretfully to Lance. “We postponed the meeting for as long as we could, but unfortunately we were only able to buy so much time.” 

Lance’s heart sank. He’d totally forgotten about the battle for Halicon. He could hardly believe that it had happened only yesterday, but of course, the universe doesn’t just stop working because they’re one paladin down. They were still at war. They had responsibilities. He had responsibilities. He was about to say so when Allura turned to Shiro.

“Perhaps we could stall until tomorrow?”

“No!” Lance sputtered, horrified. “No, you can’t put this off just because I’m having a bad day!”

His friends scowled at the phrasing. 

“Lance –” Shiro began.

“No, seriously, guys. It’s okay. I’ll be fine, see!” Lance started to push himself to his feet, but as he straightened up, the world spun and his legs wobbled beneath him. If Keith didn’t have such good reflexes, his knees probably would have ended up twice as bruised as they already were from his little fall earlier.

“Hey, hey, you’re not going anywhere,” Keith ordered, slipping an arm around his waist to hold him up, and Lance couldn’t help but think in his temporary daze that he _**much**_ preferred this to hand-holding. 

“The pod said you were severely dehydrated and malnourished,” Keith explained. “There’s no way we’re letting you go out there until you’ve got some strength back.”

“Even then,” supplemented Shiro, getting to his own feet, “I think it would do you some good to take some time off, at least from smaller missions like this.”

Lance blanched at the words. It was his worst nightmare come true at last. 

Shiro must have guessed his thoughts because he added, “We are _**not**_ kicking you off the team. You’re taking a break until you learn how to look after yourself. I would do the same for any of the team in your situation.”

Keith must have felt the tension in Lance still, because he gave him a reassuring squeeze around the waist that had Lance’s heart jolting in his chest, pulling him out from his fearful reverie. “This is just temporary, Lance. You know it’s the right thing to do. Don’t overthink it.”

After a few moments, Lance gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but you guys should still go.” 

He loathed to say it because he really didn’t want to be left alone right now, not after all of this, but he’d feel even worse if the Haliconians had to wait because his friends were too busy doting on him.

“He’s right,” said Keith and Lance felt a sad tug in his chest. “You guys go. We’ll be fine here.”

Lance’s head snapped up faster than Hunk at the word “food”. 

“We?” he breathed, not quite daring to believe it.

“Yeah, if… that’s okay?” said Keith, uncharacteristically timid. “I figured we still have some stuff to talk over, and Kolivan doesn’t really need me anyway.”

Lance had to admit, he really wanted to talk to Keith about some of the stuff he’d said over the coms. If any of what he’d been feeling all those phoebs ago had been half as bad as what Lance had, then Lance knew he wouldn’t be the only one getting showered with reassurances today; not if he had anything to say about it. But still…

“W-won’t you get in trouble?” he asked warily.

Keith shrugged. “You’re more important.”

Aaaaand there went the sweaty organs again. He really should come up with a better analogy for that because the image was only making him feel more nauseous than the actual sensation of it.

“You gotta stop saying stuff like that,” he murmured, feeling heat in his face once more.

“Not until you start believing it,” Keith answered quietly with another squeeze, and Lance thought he might catch fire, no matter how moist his innards were.

“Well,” Allura nodded, “seeing as that’s sorted, we should all eat before we have to go, Lance included. Shall we make our way to the dining-room?”

Lance’s stomach lurched, not only with the hollow nausea of a long-ignored hunger, but also with a deep-seated apprehension. He hadn’t been to the dining-room in _**Dios**_ knows how long, and he hadn’t eaten with other people for even longer. It shouldn’t matter. He’d had two pretty intense peer-therapy sessions within the last twenty-four vargas; breakfast should be nothing after that. But then why did it feel like so much, like instead of a short jaunt over to the dining-hall, he was trying to leap halfway across the universe without a wormhole?

“Hey, what’s up?” Keith whispered with concern as they followed the team out of the healing-deck and down the hall, Lance leaning heavily into his side and drifting a little too heavily into his own anxious thoughts. 

“Nothing really,” Lance replied sheepishly, “just thinking about how much I am _**not**_ looking forward to this food-goo.”

Keith’s lip curled in distaste. “Yeah, I’m with you on that one. That stuff never gets any better no matter how long you’ve been eating it.”

“Sorry, guys,” said Hunk, falling into step with them. “I was making cookies, but then everything happened and well…”

Lance waved him off with a gracious smile. “Don’t sweat it, Hunk. We’ll deal.”

“You might wanna stay away from his cookies anyway,” snorted Keith, “after that batch he made with scaultrite.”

Hunk looked at Keith like he’d just told the worst and most insulting “yo mama” joke in existence, and he was _**not**_ going to stand for it.

“What does everyone have against my hero cookies?!” he cried. “Besides, _**Keith**_ , that’s tough talk coming from a guy who probably lived off of canned beans long before upgrading to flavourless goop.”

“It wasn’t just beans,” Keith muttered with such offence that Lance realised, to his great amusement, that Hunk wasn’t actually far off base with that one.

“Oh yeah,” cut in Pidge, “wouldn’t want to forget about the spam. It’s the prime ingredient in any desert hobo’s meal.”

Lance couldn’t hold back a snort this time, earning him a glare from Keith.

“Hold on a tick,” said Allura, looking back at them. “If I recall, Pidge, you were telling me that ‘spam’ had something to do with electronic communications.” Her eyes widened with recognition. “Oh! Is this one of those ‘memes’ you were talking about?”

Pidge looked dangerously close to tackling the princess. “Do not start that again!” she just about shrieked, but Allura adopted a knowing smile that had Lance suspecting that she’d done that on purpose. Their casual banter was becoming a bad influence on her princessy decorum.

“Spam, princess,” Hunk droned in disgust, “is a meat monstrosity, an insult to the culinary arts.”

“Hey,” warned Shiro teasingly, “that stuff saved lives in the war.”

“Which one?” huffed Pidge.

He shrugged. “One of the big ones.”

“Hold your gazurgas!” exclaimed Coran. “How many wars have there been on Earth?!”

“Too many to count,” replied Keith. “People do their best to destroy each other and themselves.”

“Oh my God, Keith,” Lance spluttered, “you’re so emo.”

“I’m not emo!” Keith bit back. “I don’t understand where that even came from!”

“It’s the hair,” supplied Pidge matter-of-factly.

“And the moodiness,” added Hunk.

“Why do we always end up here,” Keith sighed to himself in exasperation.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Mullet,” grinned Lance.

Keith fixed him with a look that reminded Lance of his stroppy cat back home, ready to swipe at anyone who dared come close enough. “One more comment, and I’m shaving it off.”

Lance gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Then you wouldn’t have any reason to make fun of me.”

“Oh, believe me, Keith; I’d still find plenty of reasons to make fun of you.”

“I will drop you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No,” Keith relented, “I won’t.” 

If Lance didn’t have another argument after that it was totally because he’d won; definitely not because of the fondness churning in his chest. He was reminded again of how much Keith had done for him, and now, it didn’t feel like such a bad thing anymore.

“Hey,” he said quieter after the others had slipped into another conversation. “You know you’re kind of a hypocrite, right?”

Keith regarded him with confusion, but let him go on.

“What you said earlier, about me being the reason people are okay; that applies to you too. I don’t think I would even be here if it weren’t for you.”

Keith winced as if he’d been struck. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true,” Lance argued. “Thanks, by the way. I realised I haven’t said that yet. It can’t have been easy for you to admit all that. I know how hard it was for me.” 

“Yeah,” Keith muttered at the floor, though he glanced at Lance out of the corner of his eye. “It was worth it though.”

Lance nodded, knowing that’s what Keith was looking for, and finding, to his own pleasant surprise, that he actually agreed. It had been a long journey, and he felt battered and bruised and drowned with exhaustion, but as far as he still had to go, it didn’t seem so daunting now that he had someone by his side; now that he had his family by his side. 

They fell silent after that, though the Castle hallways were filled with laughter from up ahead. Lance figured he wasn’t such a big fan of silence; never had been. Maybe this meal wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Who knew the first step to recovery was breakfast?” he pondered aloud.

Keith let out a sound of amusement. “I guess mine was dinner. It took me a long time to convince myself to come back here once I left. Actually, it was Krolia who did the convincing, in the end.” A sad smile played at his lips. “I think she could tell how miserable I was without you guys, even if I kept on denying it.”

Lance smiled. “She sounds like a smart lady.”

“Yeah,” said Keith, then, in a strange, hesitant tone, “I, uh… think I’m gonna miss her.”

“What?!” Lance’s exclamation drew a few curious looks from up ahead, but Shiro ushered them on before anyone could turn back, a knowing smile on his face.

_**Suspicious**_ , thought Lance, but he let it go for now, turning back to Keith.

“What do you mean?” he said in a lower voice this time, stopping them in the middle of the hall. “Is she leaving again?” If this woman had the gall the leave her son a second time, so help him, Lance would track her down and tie her to Keith himself. 

Keith shook his head. “Not her,” he said slowly, biting at his lip in a way that made Lance’s body thrum with restlessness. “Me.”

Lance froze. “You’re…”

“I’m going to ask Kolivan if I can go back to doing missions from here. I can’t be a paladin anymore – I’d never think of taking anyone else’s lion – but I could still be a Blade, like I was before.”

Lance’s face felt numb. “Keith, you…”

“And this isn’t just about you,” Keith went on as if he’d already rehearsed this a hundred times and just wanted to get through the lines as fast as possible. “Yeah, you’re a big part of it – you made me realise a lot of stuff yesterday and I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere – but I’m just _**better**_ when I’m here. I got used to being alone and I got used to losing people, but now I know what it’s like to have so _**many**_ people… I don’t want to lose any more if I can help it; and I finally can. It’s my choice.”

Keith took a breath, lifting his eyes to Lance’s, and there were those lilac tufts again. 

“The truth is, I miss being around everyone and I miss being here. I want to be here for you, but I want to be here for me too.”

Lance felt something new stirring within him; a sense of pride. So, this was what Hunk had meant. Lance felt like he had run a marathon chasing after bittersweet memories of Keith during the time he was gone, and now, he’d reached the finish line; Keith was finally coming home.

When Lance didn’t offer any reply, Keith’s face defaulted back to anxious, probably thinking that Lance was going to collapse again or something. Honestly, Lance didn’t trust his own legs to hold him either, even with Keith already supporting most of his weight. 

“Keith,” he forced himself to say, “I – I –” 

For lack of a better way to express himself, Lance threw his arms around his friend, very nearly sending them both toppling into the wall. Keith tensed up as he usually did at such abrupt contact, but, quicker than he’d expected, Lance felt Keith melt into him, hugging him back so firmly yet gently that Lance ached with fondness and he never wanted to let this sweet boy go. Never again.

“I still have to clear it with Kolivan,” Keith eventually mumbled into Lance’s shoulder, but Lance only hugged him tighter, giving him the last of his strength. It was okay. No matter how things worked out, it would be okay, because for so long, Lance had been living with the certainty that no matter how close he got to Keith, or how much he let him in, he’d always be too far away. He’d always have to return to the Blades. He’d always have to leave the Castle again; would have to leave Lance behind again. But now…

Lance wasn’t sure how long they stood there wrapped around each other, but the others had long since disappeared down the corridor, presumably at Shiro’s request to give them some privacy. Lance was going to have to scold him later for encouraging Keith’s attempt to give Lance a heart-attack, but right now, he was too wrapped up in joy to feel any kind of resentment towards anything.

As Lance finally pulled back, wiping his eyes for about the billionth time in the last varga, Keith steadied him, his lips quirked in the softest smile Lance had ever seen.

“You okay?” he asked, lilac streaks dancing in his eyes and all throughout his words.

Lance felt his answer as surely as he knew his own name.

“We will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: Heyyyyyyy! Hope you enjoyed! We just have the epilogue to go now which personally, we are in love with. HOPEFULLY IT WON'T TAKE THREE MONTHS THIS TIME (HONESTLY I'M GOING TO CRY SO MUCH ONCE I'VE PRESSED POST ON THIS CHAPTER SAVE ME)  
> Just wanted to say, you should check out honest_pebble's Kiribaku fic if you're a fan of that ship - it is good quality content <3  
> ALSO, a few months back I came across this animatic and yeah it's not exactly like 'Never Again', but I got such vibes from the song and the art that made me think of this story and I thought I would share it with you guys, so [check it out](https://youtu.be/phiQ7Hu52NQ) if you have some time! (TW for suicide)  
> Thanks for being awesome, guys! Until next time!


	11. It's Over, Isn't Yeet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (original) alternative title for this epilogue: Mmm dat sweet epilogue OR SHOULD I SAY EPICLOGUE GIMME DAT HOMO
> 
> (No seriously this was the original title, I'm so sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floralfatality: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S FINALLY DONE! WE HAVE TOILED OVER THIS FIC FOR ABOUT A YEAR NOW AND I'M SO HAPPY LET ME REST BUT I CAN'T EVEN REST 'CUS I HAVE EXAMS SOON, YEET.  
> Once again, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read this fic, and to comment and kudos and give us so much love and support. You have no idea how much it has meant to us.  
> I wanna quickly say thank you to my sister honest_pebble because she came up with the original idea for this fic, wrote all the first drafts, and didn't even complain when I became the worst monster editor ever. She's been nothing but supportive and she's my best friend in the world so show her some love because she deserves it even more than I deserve a break. <3 <3 <3  
> Another note: If any of you out there are feeling down, or lost, or like you can't handle things, don't be afraid to ask for help. In no way is this fic a self-help guide XD You're not trapped in Space! Get a therapist if you can, don't be afraid to get meds (honestly, the stigma annoys me so much - they're there to help you and taking them doesn't make you any weaker), and don't forget that even if things feel like shit right now, they don't have to stay that way. Life goes on, people and places change and maybe a few months or years down the line, you'll find yourself somewhere completely different; somewhere better. Maybe these are just empty words from an stranger, but I've been there, and now I'm really glad I didn't give up, so please, don't you give up either.   
> And with that, I hope you enjoy the epilogue. It's all the fluff we've denied you up to this point. Gorge yourselves! Have fun! And most of all, stay the wonderful people that you are! <3

The first thing that Keith noticed upon stepping from his pod into the Castle hangar, was that Lance wasn’t there. His eyes scanned the room, but found only Shiro waiting to greet him. 

That was… unusual. 

Ever since Keith had started living at the Castle again, Lance had always been there to welcome him back after his missions. Keith spent the majority of his return flights practically tingling with anticipation, feeling the excitement inflating his chest as he got closer and closer to the ship until he almost couldn’t breathe past the bubble crushing his lungs. He could try to deny how much Lance affected him – it had crossed him as a little pathetic, how much of his happiness depended on whether Lance sent a smile or a wink his way – but what was the point? He wouldn’t be fooling himself or anyone else.

Besides Shiro, Pidge and Coran had also taken to teasing him about his “crush”. They didn’t know the truth – at least, he didn’t think they did, unless Shiro had let something slip – but it didn’t make them any less annoying. If anything, it made them more so. The number of times Coran had walked in on Keith and Lance quite simply hanging out and then immediately fled the scene in the most obvious way possible was starting to line up with the number of times Lance called Keith “Mullet” in a day; which was to say, _**a lot**_.

But Lance wasn’t here today.

The chest bubble burst with a flatulent huff, but Keith was more distracted by the cold dread squirming in his gut. What did this mean? Was Lance having another bad day? Ever since a particularly bad slump a few movements ago, Keith had been on the look-out for signs, but sometimes there just weren’t any, and even so, there wasn’t much he could do when he was with the Blades.

Shiro must have noticed his distress because he stepped forward to place a steady hand on Keith’s shoulder, lips curling into a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably just late. Last I heard, he was plotting with Pidge and Hunk.”

“Plotting?” Keith replied warily, raising a brow.

Shiro shrugged, the movement laced with the exasperation of an over-worked single parent.

Keith felt himself relax a little at the explanation, regardless of how feeble it was, but his panic still simmered below the surface; he didn’t think it would leave him until he actually laid eyes on the paladin. Despite how well things had been going lately, Keith couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that they would stay that way. Fate could be cruel, and especially so to the people he loved. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Lance; he just didn’t trust his own luck. He kept waiting for another house fire or another freak Space accident to take it all away from him again. He had too much to lose now.

The Castle was his home now more than ever. It was the place Keith came back to after a long day of fighting, where he could wash the blood and sweat away and relax, surrounded by family. Most evenings were quiet, everyone drained after a full day of training or planning or battles, but they always sought each other out; “Like a pack of yelmores,” Coran had stated once, nostalgically. 

Not too long ago, after a particularly hard mission involving both the Blades and Voltron, Keith had stepped into the hangar and immediately sagged against his brother’s chest in exhaustion, and the rest of the team had followed, sinking to the floor in a tangle of fatigued limbs. It had felt like the equivalent of kicking off their shoes in the doorway, letting their coats lie where they dropped, and flopping face down onto the couch with a mumbled “hello,” and it seemed so incredibly domestic to Keith that he had nearly lost it when Lance had croaked out a tired, “Honey, I’m home,” right into his ear. Lance was always the one who made them laugh on days like this, and on the days he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it, the team more than made up for it in terrible puns until the red paladin was smiling once more.

That smile would be the death of Keith if it weren’t one of his biggest reasons to live. He had it memorised, from the exact curve of the lips and position of every tooth, to the way it bunched his cheeks and brought an easy glint to his ocean eyes. He couldn’t help it. After spending so long thinking about that smile but never seeing it, the real thing had appeared like some kind of universal North Star, guiding him home wherever he was. No matter where he went, he could always feel Lance’s pull.

Keith let out a wistful sigh.

“Are you really that disappointed to see me?” joked Shiro, stealing his attention away from his painfully homosexual thoughts.

“Sorry,” said Keith sheepishly. “I haven’t slept much the past few days. I’m a little spacey.” Keith winced at the accidental pun. Lance probably would have laughed.

Shiro’s expression dropped with concern. “Maybe you should go straight to your room and get some rest. I can tell the others not to bother you?”

Keith shook his head. “I’m fine. I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve seen him anyway.”

Shiro smiled in that brotherly way which spoke of fondness, but also promised that Shiro was laughing at him on the inside. Keith didn’t really mind that much, used to Shiro’s ribbing after almost two phoebs, but Keith gave him a shove and a scowl anyway, mumbling a quiet “shut up”; it was practically tradition.

He started walking towards the hangar door, but Shiro grabbed his arm, pulling him back towards him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked with a well-meaning smirk. “You still have to tell me how it went.”

Right, the mission.

A little less than a movement ago, Kolivan had called on Keith after a mission and asked him to lead a small team in some reconnaissance for a few quintants. Apparently, Kolivan thought Keith’s skills were being wasted as a meagre foot-soldier, especially considering he already had leadership experience, and while he didn’t always approve of Keith’s choices, he respected that he had good instincts and wanted to put them to the test. 

Keith had rejected his proposal with about as much speed and panic as he would put into swatting at a lingering wasp, but Kolivan had insisted, fixing Keith with one of his stoney glares that allowed for no refusal. Keith knew better than to try and argue with him. 

He’d been left to stew in his anxieties as he made his way back to the Castle, thinking about every little thing that could go wrong; every little thing that _**had**_ gone wrong when he was the black paladin of Voltron. Krolia had done her best to reassure him, but Keith hadn’t really been able to accept his fate until later that evening.

He’d arrived at the Castle in a foul mood, which Lance, having always been well-attuned to his friends’ emotions, had picked up on immediately. He’d pestered Keith non-stop until the Blade finally cracked and let it all come spilling out in a torrent of panicked rambling. Lance had tried to calm him down to no avail, but instead of getting disheartened, he’d taken it in his stride, resolving himself to drag Keith half-way around the Castle in search of Shiro so that the three of them could spend the next few vargas running drills, coming up with emergency scenarios and planning out solutions. 

Things had really gotten interesting when the rest of the team had found them, Coran breaking out the Altean equivalent of _**Dungeons and Dragons**_ , and after Lance had finished laughing at Keith for picking the name Thunderstorm Darkness for his character, the team had spent the rest of the day together, letting Keith lead them through a quest and throwing in the occasional point of encouragement here and there to spur him on. 

Even though it had only been a fictional scenario, the game and his friends’ support had really boosted his confidence; and besides, it didn’t hurt that he got to see Lance having fun too. He’d been quiet for a few days before Keith’s last mission and he’d hated to leave him like that, but it seemed that Pidge had helped him ride it out with a couple of days of mindless video-games. Lance was in good hands with the team, and Keith felt that, whenever Lance was around, so was he. They had each other’s backs, and even if he didn’t know it, Lance had Keith’s whole heart too. 

Keith smiled at the memory of Lance’s heat pressed against his side like a white-hot poker and felt that heat rise into reality, warming his cheeks as he recalled almost choking when Lance had started playfully massaging his shoulders through a tough decision. He also fondly remembered kicking Pidge under the table when she started making kissy faces at him while the others were distracted.

“It went really well actually,” he replied, “thanks to you guys. We got more than what we needed, and I only had to yell at my team once before they got over themselves and started listening to me.” Keith was decades younger than all the other Marmora agents, and their newest recruit to boot. He’d expected to have a lot more trouble getting them to fall in line.

Shiro ruffled Keith’s hair in the way that he _**knew**_ Keith hated and grinned at him with pride. “Don’t try to shift credit. That was all you, buddy. We told you you’d do great.”

“Yeah,” Keith relented, batting him away, “you did.”

Shiro looked like he was about to say something else, but he was interrupted as a familiar cry cut through the room.

“Keith!” Lance shouted as he spotted the Blade in the hangar, his voice brimming with half-excitement and half-relief that he’d actually made it on time. Well, sort of on time. 

As the pair turned to face him, Lance barrelled into the room, just barely skidding to a stop in time to keep from crashing into them. Now, wouldn’t _**that**_ be a greeting?

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance panted, planting a hand on Keith’s shoulder to steady himself as he bent over to catch his breath. “Lost track of time.”

Looking up at Keith out of the corner of his eye, Lance caught the soft smile directed his way and felt warmth pooling in his gut. He tried a grin in return but, God, he probably looked and sounded like a hyena with a chest infection.

Resigning himself to his absolute failure to appear charming and suave, he straightened up, dragging his free hand through his hair with a final huff and hoping that any redness on his face would be attributed to the mile-long sprint he’d just undergone, rather than the embarrassment of looking like such a mess when Keith was the one who had just gotten back from a three-day mission. How did his hair still look so soft after three shower-less quintants? How was Lance supposed to compete with that? Keith already had better abs and better biceps and the prettiest damn eyes Lance had ever seen; he could at least let Lance have better hair, especially considering Lance had the decency not to style his in a _**mullet**_.

Shiro cleared his throat, snapping Lance out of his daze, and he realised, to the detriment of his already burning cheeks, that he had been staring for far too long without speaking. _**Dios**_ , he really needed to get a hold of himself.

“The mission,” he blurted out, awkwardly taking his hand back from Keith’s shoulder. “How was the mission?”

Keith had gotten himself so worked up over that mission that Lance was afraid he’d screw it up purely out of nerves. He knew Keith had what it takes to lead – he’d been his right-hand man for a while, so he was perfectly aware of what he was and was not capable of – but he hadn’t been able to convince him it would all be okay. 

He wished Keith would have trusted him, but he knew first-hand how hard it is to believe something just by being told, so taking him to do something more practical had been the only way he could think of to calm him down. It was kind of like training for his mind instead of his body, and boy, did Keith love to train. Even on their days off, Lance could count on finding Keith swinging away at the drones on the training deck. It made him think of all the time he’d spent doing the same thing, but no, it wasn’t really. What Keith did was healthy, at least when he didn’t get carried away. What Lance had been doing… that had been destructive.

Lance still had bad days: days when his thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone, knocking relentlessly at his skull or clustering like static in his ears so that he couldn’t shut them out; or sometimes, days when he couldn’t think at all, where the silence stretched to all of his senses and he’d lay floating, wondering if he’d even woken up at all because surely to be awake you had to actually feel something?

There had been a day like that a couple of movements ago. Lance had woken up and, just… nothing. He’d just been empty. It had been a while since he’d felt just empty. 

He’d tried going over all the different reasons he might be feeling this bad again after so long – maybe it was because he’d tripped during training the other quintant, or because Shiro had been avoiding him since Lance had last inquired about his little identity issue – but all in all, there was no real reason. It was a fluke; just one more thing to knock him down when he’d been working so hard to get back onto his feet.

And that’s when he’d gotten angry, because frustration was about the only thing he _**could**_ feel on days like this. 

It wasn’t fair! Some days – most days recently, in fact – he felt absolutely fine; better than fine! How could he go from feeling on top of the world one moment, to feeling like a corpse at the bottom of a manky ditch the next? His emotions were useless, like Christmas tree lights that flickered and sputtered and only lit up half the time that they were supposed to, the chords too tangled for him to find the faulty wiring. But he knew it wasn’t faulty wiring; it was the power source that was the problem. _**He**_ was the problem.

When he’d missed breakfast in favour of curling up into a little ball under the covers, he’d had Hunk knocking at his door, then Allura, and then Coran shortly afterwards. When Keith had finally come, he hadn’t bothered knocking. He’d just waltzed in with a glass of water and demanded he drink. 

Lance had heaved himself onto his back – a frustratingly tremendous effort – and met Keith’s eyes, as much as it felt like sticking pins in his own, and when he’d seen the concern there, those familiar lilac tufts drowning under inky fear, he’d known he could manage that much for him, because even if he didn’t give a damn about himself right now, someone did, and he’d do anything for that someone.

Keith had been a little out of his element, clearly unsure what he was supposed to do after that, but Lance had patted the bed and allowed Keith to scooch in next to him, resting his head on his warm shoulder as he stared blankly at the wall. They didn’t speak for a while, but when they did, it was bland, barely the frayed ends of a real conversation. But it was enough. It was enough for Lance that Keith was just there, and that he was still there when he woke up later that evening. The two of them had drifted off, and Lance would later find out that Hunk had caught them, but kept it to himself, bless his kind soul. Lance didn’t want anyone teasing him over this. It felt too private. Too raw and pure and pulsing with a painful kind of pleasure that he hadn’t been able to feel in the numbness of that moment, but that he would later recognise to be love.

Because he loved Keith. Of course, he loved Keith. How could he not? It wasn’t just the way he changed the silence or the loud, suffocating static to steady, calming breaths; or the way he always knew what to say, at least when it mattered most. It wasn’t just the way that he’d talked Lance off of a ledge and back into the arms of his pseudo-family when he’d needed them the most; or the way he made Lance feel important, not only when he was feeling worthless, but also when he was already at his best.

No; he loved Keith for all those reasons, but also because of the bonding moment, because of how worked up he’d gotten over it, because things like that were important to Keith, things like friends and family and forging bonds that would last a lifetime rather than frivolous acquaintanceships that would last a fleeting minute. He loved him because he was fierce and determined and inspiring, the way he’d always left a blazing trail for Lance to follow without even realising it, and once he’d caught on, he’d hit the accelerator and shot back a grin because he _**knew**_ that’s what Lance wanted, _**knew**_ that’s what would motivate him. He loved him because even though he had the capacity to be a huge prickly jerk – even, sometimes, to complete strangers – Lance knew he had a great heart, and that he would stop at nothing to bring peace and justice to those who deserved it. To most, that made him a hero; to Lance, that just made him Keith. 

He knew now that it had always been there, and that he’d just been too stupid to see it. Somewhere along the road, the crush he’d been denying had blossomed into something stronger, and now Lance was wondering what, in the name of King Groggery the Infirm, he was supposed to do with that information. 

“Lance?”

Some part of him had been aware that Keith had stopped talking. That same part of him had been aware that Shiro had been covering for him while he’d been staring off into space, just like Lance had done for him this morning.

“Sorry!” Lance exclaimed suddenly, snapping back to the present. “I was listening, I promise. You were talking about shitty Polzar and his shitty authority issues.”

Keith’s concern seemed to lift at that and he huffed a small laugh. “It’s not authority he has issues with; it’s me.”

Lance grinned. “Well, I’m glad you told him to suck it. If he has issues with you then he’s gonna have an issue with me.”

Keith smirked, crossing his arms smugly. “You’re gonna threaten a guy twice your size?”

“Excuse _**you**_ , Keith, I am a very brave paladin of Voltron and I would threaten any man, woman or child, four times my size to defend your honour. Nobody picks on my Keith.”

“Child?” Keith said sceptically.

“You’re really missing the point here.”

Lance sighed. _**This**_ was what Lance had been doing with the information; flirting relentlessly with the ex-paladin and failing to get any kind of reaction that would either confirm or disprove his friends’ theory that Keith might actually feel the same way about him.

He’d gone to Hunk first, seeing as the guy had always been his go-to when it came to crushes – just because it was love this time, shouldn’t change that – and also because he was the least likely to harass Lance for his feelings. Unfortunately, Pidge had gotten roped into the conversation as well, after she walked in on Lance swooning across Hunk’s lap like a nineteenth-century maiden and babbling on about Keith’s _**gorgeous**_ eyes like he was writing some disgustingly sappy sonnet. 

From then on, the two of them had urged him repeatedly to just confess, absolutely certain that Keith must feel the same way about him, but Lance wasn’t sure; after all, why would a guy like Keith ever want a guy like him?

_**"Because a ‘guy like you’ is way better than you think it is, dude,"**_ Hunk had reminded him. Hunk was good about making sure Lance didn’t forget that it was his self-esteem that was a piece of shit and not actually him. In fact, all of his friends were, and he was really grateful for it. Just the other day, he’d caught himself boasting about his skills and actually _**meaning**_ it. That had felt so much better than hearing Keith compliment him for the hundredth time, as nice as that was.

Ugh, Keith. He couldn’t get the guy out of his head for even a dobosh lately, and he knew why. He knew what this was all building up to. This whole situation was making his already complicated life even more complicated, but he had to admit; ever since Lance had figured all of this out, he’d felt more at peace with himself than he had in a while. It didn’t erase any of what had happened to him, or how he’d been feeling, but it still felt important, like something that was a part of his past, present, and, maybe – hopefully – his future too.

He had to tell him.

But it was so _**hard**_! If only he could know what Keith was thinking. 

The closest thing he’d gotten to a clue were those lilac tones in Keith’s eyes, but he’d been watching him for a while now, keeping track of all the different colours and their corresponding emotions, and while he was sure that lilac was love by this point, he wasn’t sure if it differentiated between familial and romantic love, because he’d seen that same colour flare in Keith’s eyes when he talked to Shiro, or softening his glares when Hunk and Pidge were picking on him. He also saw it whenever Keith looked _**his**_ way, but how could he be sure it was different? Lance found it so hard to be sure of anything at times. Maybe, where Lance’s feelings for Keith were concerned, it would be necessary to take a risk. That’s what Allura had told him during one of their pampering sessions; the first one in a long time. If he hadn’t asked her to do one with him, it wouldn’t have happened, just like nothing was going to happen with Keith if he kept on suffering in silence. They were both a type of risk, she’d said, except one was just a smaller one. A much, _**much**_ smaller one.

_**Oh, Dios.** _

Keith tapped him on the arm to get his attention, worry colouring his eyes again.

“Hey, you wanna go grab some food with me?” he asked, clearly an excuse to get Lance somewhere they could talk. 

“Oh,” said Lance, eyes growing wide as he remembered what he’d been doing before this. “No!”

Keith looked at him in surprise and then seemed to shrink with hesitation, drawing his hand back.

“No, wait, I mean –” Lance lunged forward, grabbing Keith around the wrist – “there’s somewhere I need to take you first. I totally forgot but we’re kind of on a time limit so we actually gotta go right now! Sorry, Shiro, catch you later!”

And with that, Lance pulled Keith from the room, stifling a giggle as the Blade shot a flimsy wave over his shoulder at his pseudo-brother before Lance yanked him around the corner.

Keith stumbled, readjusting himself to match Lance’s furious pace.

“Lance, where are we –”

“You’ll see,” Lance grinned back at him, letting go only for a second so that he could latch onto Keith’s hand instead. Keith felt the warmth in his palm radiate up through his arm, straight to his heart and then on to the tips of his ears. 

Holding hands was something they’d made a habit of over the last couple of movements, mostly because they’d made a habit of towing each other around; Lance in excitement, Keith whenever Lance didn’t have the energy to move by himself. It was comfortable and expected by now, but that didn’t mean it had any less of an impact on Keith’s poor, pining heart. He wondered if Lance knew how much he really enjoyed it, he’d stop.

Lance chugged on, unwavering, and Keith kind of wished they could slow it down because he’d spent the last three quintants playing duck, cover, and run on reconnaissance. He was tired and hungry and a part of him wanted to just slink off to his room and tap out for a few vargas. 

Speaking of tapping out.

“You okay?” Keith asked. “You kept zoning out there.”

Lance looked back at him, his cheeks pink from exertion as they continued sprinting down the hallway. “Yeah, sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”

Keith raised an eyebrow hesitantly. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Nope,” cheered Lance, popping the “p”. Keith could have sworn he heard a muttered, “definitely not.”

Before Keith could goad him into elaborating, Lance threw another question back.

“Hey, did Shiro seem okay to you?”

Keith blinked. “Yeah, he’s fine for now. Why?”

“That’s good,” Lance replied. “He was a little off during the meeting with Lotor this morning but I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.”

Keith frowned. Since living near his brother again, it had become clear to Keith what Shiro had been talking about when he’d said he wasn’t himself. Some days, everything went on as normal and the two of them were as close as ever; others, Shiro would snap at anyone and everyone like a dog defending its territory. He was still having issues with his memory and impulses, but he had started putting down to his abundant PTSD instead of talking about it as he’d tried to before. Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more malicious at work here, and Lance had said about the same to Keith on several occasions, though Shiro had taken to avoiding the red paladin whenever he got into one of his “moods”, claiming that he didn’t want to accidentally lash out at him again when Lance was still all too liable to falling into depressive slumps.

“You think we need to corner him later?” Keith asked ruefully. 

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, although it just came out as a slightly more forceful pant.

“And you’ll be okay?” Keith probed, still not a hundred percent convinced by Lance’s earlier reply.

Lance turned as far towards him as he could without risking running into a wall and shot him one of those genuine starlight smiles that made Keith’s heart pound just a little faster.

“Mullet, I am _**more**_ than okay. I’ve been looking forward to today for a _**long**_ time. Just you wait. It’s gonna be awesome.”

As they rounded another corner Lance began to slow down, and Keith realised that they were at the crossroads in front of the bridge doors. He was about to ask what was going on when suddenly Lance whipped around, pressing a finger to his lips in a signal to “shush!” 

Keith was still caught up in his confusion when Lance abruptly tugged him down to the floor, resulting in Keith ending up flat on his ass as Lance crouched behind the corner, as if taking cover.

Keith’s heart jumped in alarm as he considered that maybe somebody had breached the Castle again, but his worries were abated as he looked past the turning to see Hunk and Pidge squatting behind the opposite corner.

“Nice of you guys to turn up,” hissed Pidge in a low voice. “We thought you were gonna miss it.”

“No way,” Lance whispered back. “I worked too hard on this plan to miss the big finale.”

“What’s going –” Keith began again, but he was quickly shushed again by the whole Garrison trio. 

“Welcome back and all, dude, but you gotta be quiet or we’re gonna get caught before we can pull this off,” explained Hunk. He seemed nervous which only fed Keith’s suspicions that whatever was happening couldn’t be completely above board. 

“Pull what off?” asked Keith, catching on, at last, to the importance of stealth.

Lance grinned mischievously as he stuck a hand out to help Keith up into a crouch. Keith was glad, not for the first time, that he always wore gloves, or Lance would certainly feel how much these close-quarters situations made his palms sweat. 

“We’re setting a trap,” the paladin replied and Keith could almost imagine him tenting his fingers like an evil cartoon villain.

“A trap for –”

Lance clamped a hand over Keith’s mouth and whipped his head around the corner as noise grew from behind the bridge doors. He stared intently, presumably expecting them to slide open, but after a few seconds the voices died down again and Lance relaxed, turning back to Keith, and wow, yeah, close-quarters was putting it lightly. Their faces were only inches away, and his lips were still squashed against Lance’s palm.

Lance’s eyes widened and he quickly snatched his hand back, gaze following it as it fell to his lap. He rubbed the thumb of his other hand over the offending palm, right where he had that scar from the kitchen mishap almost two phoebs ago now, and let out a flat, timid laugh, hunching his shoulders. 

Keith frowned and lightly tugged his hands apart, causing Lance to lift his gaze. He didn’t know if it still hurt Lance to press down on it, but it had become a nervous habit of Lance’s whenever he thought he’d made a mistake and Keith had been trying to curb it. Lance wasn’t always aware when he was hurting himself; that just happened to be the most physical, and, thankfully, easily manageable example.

Lance gave him a small sheepish smile and Keith squeezed his wrist before letting go to let him know it was okay; he’d done nothing wrong. It was amazing how many conversations they could have without speaking a single word, especially considering how much of a loud-mouth the red paladin normally was.

Voices rose from within the bridge once more and Keith watched as Lance hurriedly fished for something in his jacket pocket, pulling out a small black cylinder like the rubber handle of a bike, and turning back towards the noise. He could see Lance shaking with anticipation in front of him, and across the way, Pidge pulled out a similar device, a devilish grin that only served to unnerve Keith even more stretching across her face. 

None of them moved a muscle until the doors finally opened.

Lotor stepped out, the Princess close at his side, but Keith had only seconds to take it in, for as soon as they crossed through the doorway smoke poured out across the floor and rose to create a grey screen, blocking everything but the dull shape of Lance directly in front of him from view. He felt the smoke filling his mouth, burning in his lungs and he coughed violently. 

Suddenly Lance’s hand was in his and he was being dragged upwards and led away from the smoke-filled entrance-way. He blinked his eyes furiously to rid them of the sting as he gasped for air. He could hear his friends doing the same beside him.

“You guys said there wouldn’t be that much smoke!” wheezed Lance as they came to a stop. He started to fumble with the device in his spare hand.

“Sorry,” coughed Hunk, “too much fire-power. Noted for next time.”

Allura emerged from the cloud like a Goddess breaking through the veil, her face painted with a thirst for wrathful vengeance. 

“What, in the name of Altea, is going on here?!” she cried, fixing her glare on the cluster of teens. “Is this supposed to be funny?!”

To Keith’s incredulity, Lance began to smirk. 

“Nope,” he said, watching Lotor step out from the quickly-dispersing mist. “ _ **This**_ is.”

He clicked something on the little black contraption and a small beam of blue light shot out from it towards the ceiling, fanning out over their heads. Keith briefly saw that Pidge and Hunk also held one of these strange umbrellas between them before his attention was diverted towards the groaning sound travelling up the walls and along the ceiling, echoing in the large space.

There was a tense moment of anticipation from everyone, and then suddenly, water burst from the sprinkler nodes, raining down over the lot of them. Keith flinched, expecting to feel droplets soaking into his uniform, but when none came, he looked up and noticed that the umbrella-like contraption was indeed just that; an umbrella. 

Lance was staring at him, eyes wild with excitement as laughter tore from his throat and Keith found himself coughing out a short laugh in return, mostly at the ridiculousness of it all. A prank. The thing Lance had been so excited to share with him had been a prank.

The princess and the Galran emperor seemed frozen by shock at first, and the group of (mostly) humans took this to their advantage, turning to make a quick escape down the corridor before the yelling could begin.

“Sorry we ruined your date!” shouted Lance over his shoulder at the couple, and Keith felt real laughter bubble up from inside him, urged on by the contagiousness of Lance’s glowing enthusiasm.

When they reached the bottom of the hallway, Lance and Keith split off from the other two, figuring that Allura couldn’t chase both pairs. Lance led Keith onwards, sprinting down the next corridor until he abruptly yanked him over to the left, into a small, dark room. He pulled Keith close and slammed his hand against the panel to shut the door behind them, and they were immediately enclosed in darkness, but for the soft cyan glow of the projected umbrella curving over their heads.

“She won’t look for us in here,” wheezed Lance. “It’s where all the cleaning stuff for this wing is kept.” 

Keith could feel Lance’s heavy breaths threading through his hair, tickling his cheek, and noted that they were even closer than before, their noses almost touching now. The lighting painted the paladin’s skin like a chilly autumn morning, that pale robin’s egg blue contrasting the warm brown of his cheeks and glistening in the richer, azure tones of his eyes. 

“How long do we have to stay here?” Keith panted quietly, and Lance, likewise, felt the brush of air on his skin, his eyes melting over the turquoise streaks running down Keith’s dark hair and following them to where the strands met his lashes. He marvelled at the glittering shades of his irises. This boy was so pretty it might kill him.

“Why?” Lance managed to croak out. “You sick of me already?”

“No,” replied Keith. 

They stayed quiet as they heard footsteps approaching, eyes still wandering each other’s faces since they had nowhere else to go. 

Allura called out for them in irritation but she didn’t stop as she passed their hiding place, instead, continuing her brisk march down the hallway. They both let out a small sigh of relief as the footsteps faded, but neither made a move to exit. They felt safer in here for now, just the two of them.

“Why did we run out into her line of sight if you didn’t want to get caught?” Keith asked, looking at Lance with bemusement. 

Lance smiled, the corner tainted by a sliver of mischief.

“Allura told me that since I was so worried about messing things up all the time, maybe I should try messing things up on purpose. I was just making sure she knew I had taken her advice. Besides, Lotor’s a creep. He’s had it coming for a long time.”

Keith huffed in amusement, his breath fanning across Lance’s face and doing absolutely nothing to cool the heat building there.

“I guess she didn’t expect you to channel your destructive energy into pranking her crush.”

“You see it too then!” Lance giggled, and Keith nearly melted. “I told her she was being obvious. If even you picked up on it…”

“Hey,” Keith warned playfully.

“I’m sorry, Keith, but the chant isn’t that hard. I say ‘Vol’ and you say…?”

“Don’t,” he growled. “I’m not gonna say it.”

“You’re no fun,” Lance puffed, but the ghost of a smile tugging at his pout said otherwise.

A couple of quiet, comfortable moments passed between the two as they listened out in case of any more footsteps, their eyes locking on one another’s.

“It’s good to see you, Mullet,” Lance whispered. 

Keith felt his mouth curve up on one side. “Are you talking to my hair or to me?”

“You, of course. No one could miss that mess.” Lance lifted a hand and ruffled it through Keith’s dark mop, awed by the fact that it really was as soft as it looked. So not fair.

Keith blanched. This felt very different to when Shiro did it: much more delicate; intimate even. Oh, God, this had to stop, right now.

“What the Hell, Lance?!” he spluttered, grabbing the paladin’s wrist. Lance only giggled again and reached up with his other hand in an attempt to continue his teasing, except, unfortunately, this was the hand holding the umbrella. 

The device fritzed out as the mass-light-projection was crushed against the low ceiling and Keith accidentally knocked it out of Lance’s hand while attempting to keep him away, sending it to the floor just as true darkness closed in on them. 

They were left standing in the pitch black, Keith’s hands still wrapped around Lance’s wrists (and Lance was sure he must be able to feel his pulse racing beneath his palms), and the two of them squashed so close together there was no way they could even bend their knees in an attempt to pick the umbrella back up again.

“Well this is awkward,” Lance faltered, realising his mistake.

“It’s your own fault,” huffed Keith, lowering his hands, but not letting go of Lance. He didn’t trust him not to make another attempt at his hair, even if he couldn’t see it. He’d probably end up poking an eye out; either one of theirs.

“Yeah, okay, this one’s on me,” Lance admitted and their hands slipped together as was their wont, Keith giving another reassuring squeeze.

_**It’s okay**_. And Lance knew it was.

They stood in silence once more, listening to the soft hiss and patter of the sprinklers behind the door and each other’s slowing breaths as the adrenaline began to drain away at last. 

“It’s good to see you,” said Lance.

“You already said that.”

“Ah, right.”

A beat.

“It’s good to see you too.”

“Figuratively speaking,” Lance prompted.

Keith humphed in amusement. “Yeah.”

The air seemed to get heavier then, the silence taking up more room than it did before.

“You okay?” Keith asked.

“I – I think I need to tell you something,” Lance uttered, his voice tight.

Dread gripped at Keith’s heart. “Yeah?”

Lance nodded, the movement nudging Keith’s hair and brushing his forehead. They were barely even an inch apart. 

“It’s nothing bad, or at least, I don’t think it is, but I guess it depends on how you feel about it because maybe it would be a bad thing for you, but the others don’t seem to think it would be so maybe I should just say it and –”

“Lance,” Keith said, and Lance bit his tongue, almost vibrating with the force of the butterflies in his chest. “If you’re not sure you want to tell me, you can talk to anyone on this ship. You know that, right? I won’t be offended.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance breathed, trying to figure out how to word it. “But this is different. _**You’re**_ different. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Keith felt something that could have been an explosion in his chest, but clearly no damage was done because his heart was still racing onwards like a champion greyhound. His face felt dangerously close to catching fire and he wondered if Lance could feel the heat of it radiating off of him.

“Different,” he repeated lowly, not as a question, but testing it out on his tongue, hoping it would help him decipher what exactly Lance was getting at. 

Lance groaned in frustration. “This is so difficult,” he said, breathing out a short, high laugh. “You know, I kind of like that I can’t see you right now.”

“Oh, ha ha, Lance.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that,” he replied in exasperation. “It makes it easier to talk if I know you’re not watching me.”

Keith quirked a brow, even though he knew Lance couldn’t see it. “I’m still kind of watching you though. I just can’t see you.”

Lance jabbed a knee against Keith’s leg. “Not helping. Just… let me get this out, yeah?”

“I’ve been letting you for the last twenty vargas but you’re still not –”

“Shut up,” Lance laughed for real, feeling a little bit of the tension escape with it. He knew that had been Keith’s intention, the wonderful, annoying gift of a boy that he was. Why was it so hard to just tell him that?

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” asked Keith, worry beginning to gnaw at him again.

“No, but that’s it!” Lance said suddenly, latching onto the phrase. “Nothing’s wrong, and I want you to know just how not wrong everything is because I feel like you’d want to know that and I love that I know that you’d want to know that!”

“Uh, what?” 

Lance repressed a second groan. “Sorry. Rambling, I guess.” 

Lance’s fingers slipped from Keith’s grasp and travelled up over his forearms, coming to rest around his elbows. Every stroke sent electric tingles coursing through Keith’s body and he felt a puff of air dance across his face as Lance sighed.

“I mean that I like that I don’t have to question you, or question myself about you. I feel normal when you’re around. I don’t have to remind myself that I’m okay because I just am when I’m with you, or at least, I know I _**will**_ be okay because… God, this sounds so stupid. I’m not making any sense. Sorry. You can throw me outside to drown under the sprinklers if you want.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Keith replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?” Lance asked in surprise, his heart pounding with apprehension.

Keith’s own fingers trailed upwards and over Lance’s arms and he picked absentmindedly at the creases in his sleeves. 

“I like being around you too.” 

It came out more melancholy than he’d meant it too, but he couldn’t help it when he was craving so much more than friendship. He felt kind of silly saying it like that when Lance had gone to so much effort to try and get the words out. It clearly meant a lot to him. Could that really be all he’d meant?

He couldn’t stop himself from asking the question aloud, his dwindling hopes begging for the answer not to be a mere “yes”. 

“Sort of,” Lance mumbled and Keith wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Lance fumbled with his own hopes, trying to hold onto them long enough to build the courage to speak his next words. He rubbed his thumbs over the crooks of Keith’s arms. Keith was real. He was here. Lance was really doing this. He had to do this.

He could do this.

“It feels more like… like –” He fought to keep from biting his lip closed – “like I need you, but not because _**I**_ need you, but because… I don’t know… because it’s _**you**_. I really… really like _**you**_.”

Keith was stunned into silence for a moment, his entire body going still. He could only focus on the small circles Lance was pressing into his arms, winding him up like fishing wire, leaving him dizzy and breathless. He couldn’t dare to hope, but hope was all he had in that moment. It was overtaking everything else and he couldn’t be sure what would happen if he were to just let himself give in, because everything Lance was saying made sense; made sense in the way that that was exactly how Keith had been feeling too.

Lance felt like he’d gone numb, but not in a bad way exactly; more like he had sped on ahead without his body and now he was waiting for the rest of the universe to catch up, or, more accurately, waiting for Keith to catch up. He wondered if Keith had even heard what he’d said. _**Dios mío**_ , if he had to stammer all of that out again…

At last, a reply tripped ungracefully from between Keith’s lips. “I – I really, really like you too,” he uttered and it sounded almost pained, like there was more he wanted to say but was struggling to hold it back. 

Keith was suddenly aware of how quickly the small distance between them had closed, feeling Lance’s tight torso pressing against his own, feeling more than ever, the heat of Lance’s breath near his face, mingling with his own. 

_**I have to tell him,**_ thought Lance, _**for real**_. It felt like the blackness was pushing them even closer, and Lance wished now more than ever that he could see Keith’s eyes, read the answer he needed in them. 

_**Could he love me back?** _

It was just so _**dark**_. There was only the darkness and the heat and the hammering in their chests. The darkness and the heat and Lance’s hands sliding tentatively to Keith’s waist. The darkness and the heat and Keith’s hand trailing up to Lance’s shoulders.

“Keith?” 

Their lips were barely an inch apart. Keith could feel it as though they were attached by strings, pulling them closer and closer.

What was he doing? He’d told himself he wouldn’t do this; that he wouldn’t take advantage of Lance like this. If they got any closer, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. All it would take to ruin things would be one kiss, but he couldn’t mute the part of him screaming that likewise, that would be all it would take to make things better than he had ever allowed himself to hope for.

He almost whimpered from the ache in his chest but managed to force himself to speak before the silence stretched too far.

“Yeah?” he sighed, his voice beginning to flicker out along with the last of his self-control.

Lance swallowed, feeling the words heavy on his tongue, but barely having the strength to breathe them out. 

He had to tell him.

“I – I think I love you,” he rasped, speaking the words like honey straight into Keith’s mouth. “I know I do.”

The last of Keith’s resolve crumbled into dust and he pushed forward the last half an inch, pressing his lips against Lance’s for one short tick with every ounce of his longing. Lance’s lips were warm, that halfway between wet and dry that felt like velvet, but they were _**oh**_ so sweet, as sweet as the words that had just passed over them. 

It was over almost as soon as it began, Keith having quickly realised exactly what it was he had done. He pulled away, but barely even as far as he’d been a tick ago, unable to drag himself any further, clinging on by the last few hairs of hope that refused to let go no matter how many times he tried to slice at them with what he thought was a cold truth. 

“I – I –“ he gasped, torn between a flustered apology and a heartfelt confession. Lance didn’t allow him to make the choice.

Lance’s lips were on his in almost an instant, his arms circling Keith’s waist and pulling him impossibly closer. Keith responded eagerly, unable to help himself. 

He melted in Lance’s embrace, gasping as their lips parted and quickly diving back in to snatch another kiss, his own arms drifting up around Lance’s neck. Keith’s fingers laced into Lance’s hair and he pulled him closer, their lips sliding together again as Lance’s hands slid up Keith’s back, sending pleasant shivers up his spine. 

There was a thud as Keith’s back slammed into the door behind him, but they paid no mind, wrapped up in the flavour of kisses they’d dreamed about for far too long, floating in the pleasure of the moment and forgetting about everything else. They lost track of where their hands were but they certainly knew where hands had been, relishing in the tingle of touched skin and tugged hair. They breathed together; moved together, passion overtaking every one of their senses and all of their sense.

That was how Lance’s hand ended up smacking against the panel by the door and how they found themselves tumbling to the floor, water showering over them, soaking their hair and their clothes and washing away the ghostly feeling of wandering hands.

Lance looked over at Keith who had fallen right next to him and started to laugh, letting the sound fill the corridor with no regard to consequences. Keith joined him and their voices clashed together, weaving around the droplets and rising to the ceiling in their strange harmony.

“I love you so much,” Keith half-laughed and half-sobbed, his voice struggling between two extremes of emotion.

“You could have said something,” Lance threw back breathlessly, the remnants of his laughter settling into a flutter in time with his heartbeat.

Keith’s head flopped over towards him, a delirious smile on his rose lips, and Lance turned onto his side, reaching across to Keith’s waist to play with his fingers and soaking up every shade of blue and purple dancing in Keith’s bright eyes, knowing that if he missed a single one, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Keith admitted, getting lost in the depth of Lance’s swirling blues. “I thought maybe you’d think I was taking advantage.”

“You?” Lance said, his heart pinching with disbelief. “Impossible.” He bobbed his head forward, resting it against Keith’s forehead with a smile. “I know you would never.”

Keith felt his whole body humming with love, the pain of longing having disappeared and been replaced with a blissful, all-consuming calm. He’d never thought it was possible to be this happy. He never thought that _**he**_ could ever be this happy.

His hand found Lance’s cheek and he brushed his thumb along his cheekbone, just as he’d been longing to do for almost two phoebs, maybe longer, and as he tilted his head up to capture Lance’s lips again, he was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing nearby.

The two of them bolted upright, gazes finding Allura’s as she stared down at them, arms crossed with irritation, but expression softer than they would have expected. She was still absolutely drenched, as they were now too, but some of the hardness in her eyes had alleviated and her lip was quirked in amusement.

“I expect you to give a formal apology to Emperor Lotor before his departure this afternoon,” she said firmly, although she clearly wasn’t mad anymore. Lance guessed that seeing them as soaked as she was had enlightened her as to how funny the prank actually was; that and the fact that she’d been coaxing him to confess to Keith for movements without thinking it was ever going to happen. This was going to call for one Hell of a late-night gossip session soon, he knew.

Keith threw Lance a wary look, to which his only response was a sheepish shrug and a grin. Allura rolled her eyes as she turned around and began stalking down the hallway away from them.

“Why’d she let us go?” asked Keith in confusion.

“Because she knows,” replied Lance.

“Knows…” 

Lance let out another short laugh. “If she hadn’t already guessed by the super weird atmosphere, and the kind of compromising position she found us in, Keith, then your lips definitely would’ve given it away.”

Keith reached up to brush his finger along his bottom lip. He could only imagine how swollen it must be after all of Lance’s teasing.

“You’re one to talk!” he said defensively, noting the pink bulge of Lance’s own lips. 

He barely restrained himself from pulling Lance in for another round, but there was something more important to address first. 

“Does it bother you? That she knows?” Keith let his gaze drop to the floor, dipping into the puddles of water that swarmed around his finger-tips. 

Lance looked at him in surprise. “I, uh… no? I don’t think she’ll tell anyone.”

Keith nodded. “So, you don’t want anyone to know.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lance’s fingers picked at Keith’s against the floor and Keith let him take his hand. “Do you not want them to know?”

“I don’t really care,” he said honestly. “I only really care about you.” He looked up and was met with Lance’s blush. It lightened the load on his heart a little.

“I meant what I said, you know,” said Lance, chewing on the corner of his lip. It drove Keith crazy. “I really care about you, Keith.”

“And you know I care about you.” 

Lance choked out a laugh. “I really do. You’ve definitely made sure of that.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to think I didn’t mean… that.”

Lance shook his head. “Never.” His eyes darted between Keith’s lips and eyes while he spoke. “You can… mean it again, if you want.”

For a moment, Lance thought he’d ruined it with his stupid joke, but then Keith leaned forward and Lance felt himself doing the same as if drawn by magnets. 

It was just as surreal as before. The entire room fell away and it didn’t even matter that they could see now because their eyes had drifted closed before their lips had even met, and when they did, it was like there was nothing else, nothing but their lips and their tongues and their wandering hands; hands cupping jaws and clutching at arms and running up and down each other’s bodies, leaving trails of fire and ice, surging with the waves of love and relief and desperation that pulsed throughout their bodies. It was just them. Only them.

Oh. And Pidge, apparently.

“ _ **Finally**_! God, we’ve all been drowning in sexual tension for, like, a literal deca-phoeb!”

They broke apart, both of them immediately shooting daggers at the smallest paladin as they caught sight of her. She grinned back at them, Hunk’s face peeking around the corner beside hers, looking similarly amused, though also brimming with delight.

“Oh my God, get out!” yelled Lance, his breath short from both shock and exertion.

“I’m not the one that decided to make out in the middle of the hallway,” retorted Pidge smugly. 

Lance shifted as if to get up, and, thankfully, that was enough of a threat to send his friends running. 

When they were gone, he flopped back against Keith’s chest with a sigh of exasperation, feeling, in that moment, like they’d never be alone again. 

He gazed up at Keith and smiled, noticing that his eyes were more lilac than he’d ever seen before. Keith stared back, taking in the shine of his favourite star.

They’d never be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest_pebble: Wassup madlads, can you believe it’s over? Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, is here! And let’s just say, it really butters my egg roll.  
> I’m struggling to find the vine that just really expresses my gratitude and love for you guys, but here’s a couple that I thought of while thinking of klance and thinking of all you awesome readers:   
> ‘Country boi, I love youuuuu....ahhwhhwh’ (how do you even write the noise she makes)   
> ‘Do yourself a favour, go up to your valentine today and say this: I love you 5ever, cuz that’s more than 4ever’  
> Also I’m really upset that like.. no one has seen this vine because it’s literally my favourite thing in the entire world so please click [this link](https://youtu.be/C1VpCl7srvE) and go to 1:33   
> Thank you!!   
> (Also come talk to me on tumblr, I post mostly bnha (Kiribaku) but.. yeah!!) [@honestpebble](https://honestpebble.tumblr.com/)  
> (Seriously there is nothing I love more than that vine it’s so funny) (I see so you’re not just a hedgehog, HAHAHAHAOAOOOOAOAOIIUAUAOAUIAOOIUAUOAIAIOAIAIAOAIUAOAUAOAU)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let us know what you thought in the comments, even if it's just keyboard smashes or vine references. Actual opinions would be nice of course, but we'll love whatever you say all the same ;)


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